#I’d rather people wait to read my fic than pass out from exhaustion

[dreadpirateurania13]

The gay tension between Hugo and Varian and the Hugo-centric angst in ch 22 had me giggling and kicking my feet like a school girl writing in a diary bro-

I read the chapter at 2am in the morning before passing out after finishing it bc I don't have a normal sleep scheduele

Hehehehehehehehehe I’m glad to hear it. I love angst and oblivious characters having tension that they don’t understand the meaning of yet (I’m evil)

[mickey-henry]

𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐈 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝

pairing: bucky barnes (bookstore au) x reader

summary: eager to escape the heat, you find yourself in the presence of a mesmerizing bookstore and an irresistibly beautiful man.

word count: 2.3K

author’s note: hello! welcome to my third fic😊 I’m eager to share this with you all! I now have a taglist (the link is also in my bio) if you’re interested🥰 thank you to @certainaesthetic​ for helping me workshop this idea, @fuckandfluff​ for the grammar help, and @midnightf​ for hyping me up as I wrote it! likes, reblogs, messages, replies, and comments are cherished! the header images are from pinterest and the divider is from here. I hope you like it! 💖

You’re desperate to escape the smoldering heat. It’s too hot to rest in the car; it’s been baking all day beneath the sweltering summer sun, parked just outside your place of work. If you attempt to sit in it now, you’d only be greeted with a wave of torrid air, stung with the touch of your seatbelt, and burnt from the searing leather of your steering wheel.

You’re off from work earlier than usual—the blinding sun is usually long beneath the horizon before you head home for the day. The pathetically small sun visor does nothing to shade your eyes from the blazing sunlight. Rather than driving half-blind, you decide to wait out the setting sun.

As you ponder how to spend the rest of your afternoon, you realize that now is an opportune time to visit the new bookstore, The Book Haven, that opened last month. After changing out of your uniform and throwing your work stuff in the trunk, you walk across the plaza to the shop entrance.

The bookstore greets you with the chime of a bell and a rush of cool air as you step in, a blissful contrast to the scorching outdoors. The welcoming scent of coffee grounds and the tangy aroma of old books accompany the refreshing breeze. You take a deep breath, appreciating the convivial atmosphere. The bookstore is a sublime sight; words almost can’t describe its charm.

Shelves like skyscrapers—stuffed to the brim with books, magazines, and comics—graze the ceiling. An intimate reading nook lies next to the door; an inviting window seat dwells beside a floor-to-ceiling window. Clear mosaic window clings cover the glass, casting beautiful rainbows throughout the store. Stringed vintage light bulbs illuminate the shelves; candle-lit sconces adorn the top corners of each one. Oriental rugs lay between the shelves, covering a dark mocha floor. Tucked in the back of the store is a small coffee cranny, hidden at first glance. Frank Sinatra’s charming, rich vocals travel through the air, tickling your ears. The owner clearly put the utmost time, energy, and love into the creation of their shop. It is unequivocally perfect and already one of your favorite places.

You wander to the classics section, enthralled by the exquisite covers. Sensing someone nearby, your eyes glance at movement caught in the corner of your eye. Your stomach somersaults at the stunning stranger. The instant you lay your eyes on him, you forget to breathe for a moment—your breath engulfs your throat. You’re astounded by the Adonis of a man before you.

Bristles of scruff grace his defined jawline—his low man-bun neatly styles his dark chestnut hair. A grey short-sleeve button-up shirt hugs his toned arms; a white tank top clings to his lean, fit frame; cuffed slim-fit khaki pants, help up by a bronze braided belt, embrace his thick thighs; and weathered, chunky brown leather shoes don his feet.

Through the rose-colored glasses that surround your heart, your soul imagines a life with a perfect stranger. The hopeless romantic in you can’t help but steal glances, hoping to catch a better glimpse of him. The moment he turns to walk away, your heart sinks to your stomach. You hope this isn’t the last time you see this gorgeous man.

A few minutes later, you’re mulling over a collectible edition of The Catcher in the Rye, attempting to justify purchasing yet another copy of your favorite book. A melodic voice interrupts your pondering. “That’s a pretty edition of The Catcher in the Rye you’ve got there.”

You turn towards the charming voice. Lo-and-behold, it’s the love of your life: the handsome stranger you’ve mentally lived a lifetime with. His beauty is even more profound up close: now you can see that his eyes are a lovely shade of blue. His eyes, haunted by a subtle sadness, draw you in, unlike anything you’ve experienced before. You find yourself entranced in his sea-blue current; you could easily drown in his gaze. You attempt to hide your awestruck expression and converse with him like a normal human being. “I agree! I already own a copy though, do I really need a new one?”

“I think we both know the answer is always yes,” he assures.

“Okay, you’ve convinced me. I'll get it! Thank you for justifying my unnecessary purchase.”

Your words hang in the air, everything going quiet as you wait for the ravishing stranger to introduce himself. The two of you stare in silence at each other, the tension thickening as the seconds pass by. After a few moments, his face flashes in realization—you were waiting for his name.

“I’m Bucky,” he offers with an enchanting smile, extending his hand out to you. You share your name as the two of you shake hands. Your eyes stare down his veiny arm to his ring-studded fingers grasped around yours. You allow yourself to imagine for a few moments how amazing those fingers would feel tracing your arms, tangling your hair, and teasing your inner thigh. Your lustful reverie comes to an abrupt halt at the sight of the book nestled inside the crook of his elbow: The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka, the bane of your existence. You scoff with furrowed brows; of course, Mr. Handsome Stranger would be interested in the one book you despise.

“Got something to say there, sweetheart?” he questions with an amused grin.

“Out of all the classic novels in this entire store, that’s the one you chose? The Metamorphosis?”

“What’s wrong with this one?” he jives.

You pause for a second, debating whether it’s worth it to argue with a stranger. The pondering lasts only a few seconds; the exhaustion from your day disintegrates your filter. Besides, you loathe The Metamorphosis.

“What isn’t wrong with it? The dude wakes up thinking he’s an insect? The reader has to sit there throughout the entire book, wondering whether he’s a man or a bug? What the actual fuck? I didn’t appreciate the existential crisis that book gave me at fifteen; if I can help someone else avoid the suffering caused by that monstrosity, I'm going to do my part,” you huff, unamused by the joy Bucky seems to gain from your zealous analysis.

“Wow, what a passionate review! Perez Hilton would be envious of your slander. Okay then, what classic would you recommend instead?”

You cross your arms, expecting him to challenge your response. “The Importance of Being Earnest by Oscar Wilde.”

“That’s a play,” he counters.

“It’s published as a book; it counts! It’s witty, playful, and has a happy ending, which is the most important point of all. It also doesn’t make you want to pull a Fahrenheit 451 and burn every copy in existence,” you attest.

He steps closer to you, tucking loose strands of his hair behind his ear. “Life doesn’t always have a happy ending, sweetheart.”

Great, there he goes again with that freaking pet name; it’s going to be the death of you. He knows your name, you just gave it to him, yet here he is, infuriatingly insisting on calling you sweetheart instead. Stupid pretty boy with his ocean blue eyes and amorous smile.

“That’s exactly the point,” you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “So, why would I want to read something that doesn’t end well? If I’m going to escape this reality for a while, it better be for a happier one.”

“And if it's not?”

“Then I’ll throw the book across the room and make up my own happy ending!”

“Ooh, aggressive,” he tuts. “The owner of this place might not be too happy with you if you’re throwing books all over the place; it’ll scare away the customers.”

“Then it’s a good thing the owner isn’t here,” you interject confidently, knowing full well you have no idea who the owner is.

“Well, that just isn’t true, sweetheart. You’re looking right at him.”

He’s lying—he has to be. Why would a dreamboat like Bucky own a bookstore?

You scoff, “you’re not the owner of this place.”

“I’m not? What makes you say that?” he banters.

“People like you don’t own bookstores!” you exclaim.

“People like me?” he goads, cocking his head to the side. The action erupts butterflies in your stomach.

“Attractive people!” you groan.

“So you think I’m attractive?” he plays, stepping to close the gap between you.

“Psh, no, you wish,” you muster. The heat spreading across your cheeks betrays your bluff.

There are mere inches between the both of you now; you hope he can’t hear your racing heartbeat. You watch his eyes go down from yours to your mouth and back up again. He eyes you with a smirk, his teeth playfully tugging his bottom lip. It takes everything in your power not to give in to his spell.

“I’ve known you for what, five minutes? I don’t go around kissing strangers, Bucky,” you falter, taking a step back from his closeness.

“Then let’s not be strangers, sweetheart. Grab a coffee with me; I know a nice place, not far from here,” he flirts, gesturing to the counter at the back of the store.

“Let me learn more about what goes on in that pretty little head of yours,” he purrs, his breath tickling your cheek.

“Okay, fine. I’ll have a coffee with you,” you surrender.

A bright, honeyed smile dons his face.  

“It better be good, though. Not the stale crap you usually get in the middle of the afternoon.”

“I’d only give you the best, sweetheart,” he winks, extending his right hand. You take it; he gives you a soft squeeze before weaving you through the towering shelves.

Your discussion continues with another passionate book review as he prepares your drink. He’s a sucker for gritty dystopian novels while you gravitate towards sappy romances. He shares his passion for painting as he guides you to the reading nook. The artwork hung on the edges of the bookcases is crafted by him—a detail you hadn’t noticed at first glance. His stunning work features both landscapes and people. He loves to sit in a picturesque landscape and paint for endless hours. Occasionally, he takes his old polaroid as he explores the town, snapping moments between strangers, translating their intimacy to canvas when he gets home.

He gestures for you to take a seat in the reading nook before handing you our steaming cup of joe. You sit with your legs crossed, your hands hugging the mug in your lap. Bucky sits with his leg draped over the side of the bench, his left foot pressing into his right thigh. The conversation shifts topics; the two of you divulge your desires and unfulfilled ambitions. You aren’t sure if it’s the look in his eyes, the sweet cup of joe in your palms, or the aroma of coffee surrounding you, but in his presence, your senses feel wide awake.

Before you know it, the mesmeric moon replaces the sizzling sun, melting away the blistering heat, and the steaming cup of coffee in your hands has long chilled. Bucky’s employee interrupts the blissful rendezvous, informing him that all the closing duties are complete, and he’s headed home for the night.

You stare at your watch in shock—it's five past nine. Where did the time go? You apologize profusely to the poor kid who had to close up alone; he assures you it’s no problem.

A melancholic pit in your stomach forms as you turn back to Bucky. He’s nestled himself into your soul; you don’t want to say farewell to him so soon. He has a sad glint in his eyes; you hope it’s because he’s also dreading the end of this perfect night.

“Can I walk you to your car?” he asks timidly, his earlier suave demeanor gone from his voice. He stands up in front of you, offering his arm to escort you.

“I’d love that,” you reply with a shy grin, grabbing his arm and hugging it tightly.

In the blink of an eye, you’re in front of your car. You let go of his arm and lean against the trunk. You stare into his eyes, hoping that he can see without the use of words how much you don’t want this moment to end. There’s a few moments of painful silence before Bucky clears his throat.

“So, now that we’re not total strangers, how about that kiss?” he flirts with pleading eyes.

“Okay,” you reply with a bashful smile.

He slowly reaches his hand towards your cheek, softly stroking it with his thumb. He presses his forehead against yours. “Are you sure you want to do this? ‘Cause if we do, you might not be able to get rid of me, sweetheart.”

“Yes I do, Bucky,” you giggle.

He grins as he gently presses his pillowy pink lips on yours. The kiss steals all the air from your lungs—his touch sends tingles throughout your body, electrifying your veins. You’re breathless when your lips finally part.

“Let me get your number before I let you go,” Bucky insists. You nod and hand him your phone, unable to form a coherent thought.  The ghost of his lips and fingers trace your figure. You’re barely acquainted with his tender touch, yet you feel naked without it, yearning to once again be within his grasp.

You exchange phones—adding your number and name with a sparkling heart emoji and swiftly passing his phone back before you can change your mind. Bucky snaps a quick selfie for his contact, smirking for the camera. You grin when you see he also put emojis by his name: a beetle and a kissy-face.

He pecks your cheek before opening the car door for you. “Hope to see you around, lovebug.” The new pet name burns your cheeks and erupts butterflies in your stomach.

He doesn’t leave the parking lot until your car disappears completely from his view.

You drive home with thoughts of Bucky swirling in your mind. You send a silent thanks to the universe for bringing this beautiful man into your life. His voice, touch, and smile echo in your thoughts for the remainder of the evening—his presence paving its way through your dreams. You’re falling hard and fast; you only hope he’ll be there to catch you.

tagging a few mutuals who expressed interest in this story🥰please fill out the taglist form if you’d like to be tagged in the next story! 💖

@ritesofreverie @midnightf @certainaesthetic

[chefdoeuvre]

Aftermath

Jay Halstead

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Sister!Reader

Description: People always tend to forget about the aftermath.

Words: 2,122

Requested: yes by anonymous; second, if it's ok i wanted to request a part two to the imagine? i was wondering if you could just explore the aftermath of her assault, as she continues to heal and accept what's happened to her. by this i mean experiencing ptsd and having nightmares, flashbacks and dealing with certain triggers. also, maybe she could still sometimes turn to substances as many survivors do, and just break down sometimes. obviously since it's a halstead sister fic and i love the support system in the last story, i'd love to see jay helping her through everything and being super protective + some scenes with the rest of intelligence? but it's obviously up to you. thank you so much <3

Warnings: mention of drinking, sexual assault, drugs, language, PTSD, Jay Halstead and all of Intelligence being the best.

A/N: This is the long awaited part two to Infliction, and by long-awaited I mean like a month later. I tried to make the end light hearted because it seemed like a good way to go. I apologize in advance for any grammatical errors.

—

It had been a few weeks since the party and things were beginning to look up. You and Brayden started hanging out more and it was safe to say the two of you were on your way to becoming best friends. The group of guys had all been arrested and sent far away from you. You, Jay, and Will have been having more frequent family movie nights instead of them heading out to Molly's every free night they got. Intelligence had basically adopted you as one of their own and even went out of their way to hang out with you. Kim and Hailey had girls nights away from the ever-annoying guys they work with. Adam and Kevin practically chauffeured you to hangouts with Brayden and took you out to your favorite diner on the weekends. Even Hank had called you once in a while as a check-in and to keep you informed about your case. Overall things seemed to be getting better for you.

Except for one little detail. Your PTSD was hitting you like a truck. Of course, the only person who even remotely knew what was happening was Brayden because he was the one person you spent most of your time with. Thankfully he was there to help ground you and calm you down when it all became too much for you. This wasn't sudden, it's been building up since it happened and clearly you needed to work on accepting it rather than shoving it all down. That's one thing you and Jay had in common, the two of you always had trouble addressing your problems no matter how big they became.

Currently, you were laying in bed and staring up at your ceiling that Jay had covered in stars for you. If there was one thing about you is that you still are a child at heart. You had been shocked awake by your recurring nightmare. It always followed the same premise of the night of the party but every night there were either different people, points of view, or different actions you took that still led you to the same outcome. There were dried tears staining your cheeks that you hadn't bothered to wipe away and every few moments there would be a soft sniffle to break the eerie silence.

Having enough of staring up at your ceiling you let out a low huff and pushed yourself up to a sitting position. You turned to the side and looked at the clock resting on your nightstand. The clock read 4:19 AM which was clearly too early for you to be up but too late for you to try and go back to sleep before Jay's rustling while getting ready would wake you up. Reaching over to open the drawer in your nightstand you checked the small bottle hidden under the glasses case that held your blue light ones. It was three-quarters full of vodka you had inconspicuously stolen from Jay's cabinet. You kept promising yourself that you wouldn't drink anymore, but clearly, that wasn't really panning out in your favor. Sure you would have a swig or two before braving yourself and heading off to school but it was to take the edge off, not to get drunk.

If Jay were to check through your drawer he'd probably think otherwise. You had stopped with the pills since he had found you, but what he doesn't know won't hurt him so you continued to drink. Obviously, it wasn't a lot and definitely not enough to get you drunk off your ass. You just wanted to be buzzed enough to have the courage to walk into your dreaded school every morning and deal with the numerous triggers you kept on discovering.

Eventually, it was time for you actually start getting ready for school. Jay had already left for work a while ago, leaving a kiss on your head before stepping out the door. You pulled on a random outfit that was comfortable and your usual pair of shoes before throwing your backpack over your shoulder and walked downstairs. Deciding against your worst judgment you made the choice to brave the day without the buzz of alcohol. Waiting at the front entrance of your building was Brayden. Like every morning the two of you would walk to school together if Jay had to go into the district early. If Jay only had paperwork that day he would drive the two of you to school instead, but that didn't happen very often.

The two of you walked to school silently, only exchanging a few words of greeting. Once you had made it to the large building you both had to split up for your classes. The day went on like usual, boring teachers droning on about upcoming assignments and tests. Lunch had arrived after what seemed like forever and you sat at an empty table practically half asleep. You held your head in your hand as you kept your eyes from slipping shut at the exhaustion.

"You not feeling too hot there?" One of your classmates from English asked as he passed by.

You froze at the familiar words before shaking yourself out of the memory.

"Fine, just tired." You brushed off their comment as he nodded with an understanding smile before continuing to his table.

Moments later the door opened and you picked your head up reluctantly. It was a few guys on the football team.

"You not feeling too hot there?" One of the seniors asked you.

You simply shook your head which only worsened the pain in it. The boys walked a few steps closer before placing their hands on your shoulders. They shoved you back onto the bed and immediately your body began to react.

You kicked and punched aimlessly to get them off of you but your movements were uncoordinated and your mind was foggy. There were too many of them and they began to overpower you, their hands wandering to unwanted places.

“Y/N?” Brayden’s voice pulled you out of the flashback.

“Huh?” Your teary eyes darted around his face before focusing on his concerned expression.

“Let’s head to the library, all right?” Brayden suggested already standing up from his seat across from you.

You nodded silently before hiking your bag over your shoulder and walked to the library beside him. Luckily at your school, they were lenient enough to let you head to the library during lunch. Usually, the kids didn’t take advantage of it but it was an unspoken spot of peace for you and Brayden.

The two of you sat at a table near the back and Brayden pulled a chair up beside you.

“Want to talk about what happened back at lunch?” Brayden asked softly.

You bit your lip in contemplation. This had been happening for weeks and every time you’d shake your head and change the subject. But the fact was it wasn’t getting better and you just needed to tell somebody that you weren’t okay. A few tears slipped out of your eyes which led to quiet sobs escaping from your lips. Brayden offered you a hug with outstretched arms, making sure to check if you were okay with it. You leaned forward into his embrace and squeezed his waist tightly. He held you there while rubbing soothing circles on your back until your cries stopped. You lifted your head off his chest and wiped away the remained tears on your cheeks before speaking up.

“Uh, flashbacks. I’ve been getting them for a while. I thought they’d go away, but they haven’t.” You explained with a sigh, avoiding his gaze and instead taking interest in your hands.

“Okay first, if they happen again tell me, or pull on my sleeve and I’ll get you somewhere quiet. Got it?” Brayden bent his head to try and get into your eye line.

You nodded your head with a hum before he spoke up again, “since they haven’t gone away maybe you should talk to someone. Preferably a professional, but if you’re only comfortable telling me then I’m all ears. Although, I’m not sure that I can cure you with magic, wish I could though.” Brayden tried to lighten the mood with his magic comment.

“Thanks, Brayden. Jay actually has been bugging me about seeing a therapist. Said it helped him with his PTSD, I think I might take him up on it.” You looked up at the boy with pursed lips.

“That’s good. Just know we’re not trying to force you into anything, we just want you to feel better however long that may take.” Brayden gave you a soft smile.

“You are wise beyond your years, you know that?” You smiled back with a small laugh.

“I try, I try.” Brayden shrugged nonchalantly.

“Can you come with me to the district after school?” You asked cautiously.

“Of course, not like I’d rather do my homework.” Brayden laughed.

“And there’s the Brayden I know.” You smiled widely.

Soon enough you and Brayden had been making your way to the twenty-first district to talk with Jay and probably the rest of Intelligence. The air was lighter between the two of you once you had finally started to open up. Of course, you hadn’t spilled everything but the little you had told him made the weight on your shoulders lessen slightly.

“Ah, baby Halstead and company, what brings you here?” Trudy greeted from the front desk with a tight-lipped smile. Even if she didn’t want to admit it, she had a soft spot for you.

“Can you ring us upstairs? I need to talk with Jay.” You asked.

“You’re lucky they haven’t caught a case today.” Trudy walked out from behind her desk and led you and Brayden upstairs.

“Thank you, Trudy.” You smiled and followed the woman.

“I have a special delivery for Detective Chuckles.” Trudy spoke up once the three of you reached the top of the steps.

Jay’s head snapped up from his desk with a look of confusion when his eyes landed on you. He quickly stood up and scanned you over for anything.

“What happened, are you all right?” Jay cupped your cheek in concern before sparing a glance at Brayden for any sign of something bad.

“I’m okay, I just needed to talk to you.” You reassured him.

“All right. You wanna head into the kitchen?” Jay asked.

“No, we could talk at your desk. They’re all gonna find out anyway.” You gestured to the rest of the unit who was watching the two of you intently.

Jay nodded his head and led you to his desk. You reached out and held onto Brayden’s arm as you pulled him along to take a seat and sit beside you. Of course, at this, the entire unit had gathered around with concerned faces once you started to explain to them. Jay’s expression was held with soft eyes as he listened to you agree with wanting to try therapy and asking for help.

Once you were done Jay stood up and placed a kiss on the top of your head before whispering into your hair, “I’m proud of you.” Jay pulled away to give you a warm smile.

“All right come here you little muffin.” Kim held out her arms with a smile.

You stepped forward into her embrace as she squeezed you tightly, she rocked the two of you from side to side eliciting a small giggle out of you. Hailey joined the hug with a laugh once Kim pulled her by the arm.

Antonio placed a hand on your shoulder once you, Hailey, and Kim pulled away, “I’m proud of you, kiddo.” He offered you a kind nod.

“So proud.” Kevin gave you one of his signature bear hugs.

“Okay, it’s my turn.” Adam squeezed his way to stand in front of you. Which caused everyone to laugh at his eagerness.

“I could never forget about you, Ruz.” You wrapped your arms around his shoulders as he lifted your toes off the ground.

“Are we done yet? You guys are treating my sister like an attraction.” Jay sassed.

“You’re just mad that you only got to kiss me on the head and not a hug.” You retorted from leaning back into Brayden with a smirk.

“No, not true.” Jay shook his head with furrowed brows.

“Yup, totally jealous.” You nodded convinced.

“How did we go from a serious topic to Halstead and mini Halstead having a sarcasm battle?” Adam questioned with a confused expression.

“I learned to stop questioning it.” Brayden shrugged from behind you.

“It’s how we cope. Halstead thing, I guess.” You said with raised brows.

“Fair enough.” Jay sighed.

[alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer]

champagne problems (part 1)

here's my first part of my modern no magic "champagne problems" singer-songwriter quarantine thomastair AU! happy birthday to @foxglove-airmid even though I don't think it's your birthday where you live anymore (and I still haven't posted zia's birthday fic, it'll happen I swear)!

no content warnings for this part (besides maybe quarantine), but future parts will include discussions of mental illness, substance abuse, and a suicide attempt

obviously, the song alastair "wrote" in the fic is not mine, it's by taylor swift! and a few of the lyrics have been changed!

Masterlist | AO3

Thomas breathed out a sigh of relief as he lugged his suitcase up onto the fifth floor landing.

“‘Ere we are,” Piers announced as he unlocked the door.

Thomas was utterly exhausted, such was the result of taking a redeye flight across the Atlantic during a global pandemic, but any idea of rest that he’d had was interrupted when he heard the sound of piano flood the apartment.

“Ah, sorry about that,” Piers nodded, “One of my flatmates, the walls are paper thin. He can’t record at the studio right now, but he’s trying to finish his EP, so it’s been a bit noisier around here. He’ll take a break soon, hopefully.”

Thomas shook his head. “It’s no problem. Thank you, again, for allowing me to stay here. I’ll be looking for my own place as soon as the quarantine is up.”

“Of course. You’ve got the couch as long as you need it. Couldn’t just hang you out to dry, could I? Although, you did pick a god awful time to move to the city, if I do say so myself.”

Thomas sat down on the couch and tried to make himself comfortable. It was more comfortable than the flight or the airport, at least. “I know… I considered postponing the move, but the visa was so difficult to get, I just couldn’t pass up the opportunity. They say this will all blow over in a couple of weeks, but borders are closing and I heard talk of them suspending all pending visa applications. I didn't know how long it would be if I waited, if the job was even still here for me at all.” Although at first entrance, the music had seemed to be a nuisance, it now comforted him. It wasn’t bad at all, in fact, it quite reminded him of the days Alastair’s playing had filled their flat…

“Where did you say you were working again? At a record company?”

“Yeah. I’m just doing pretty basic stuff for now, but if I ever do want to record my own music, I’ve got to start somewhere.”

“Hm,” Piers said, gesturing to the room the music was coming from. “Perhaps you’ll get on with him well, then. Would you like some tea?”

Thomas nodded and Piers went to start the teapot. Piers continued, “Though I suppose he's more of the tortured artist type. Very reserved, quite prickly. I didn't even meet him until a couple weeks after I moved in here because he was off in some psychiatric hospital.” Thomas shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He was never one for gossip. “My other roommate’s nice, though, I think you’ll like him. He-”

“How did you end up in New York, again? I don’t think I ever asked.”

Piers dove into the subject change quite readily, explaining his uni - or college - years in New York City and his decision to stay afterwards. Thomas had tuned most of it out, truthfully. It wasn’t that he was trying to be rude, but he was rather exhausted, and Piers was wearing thin on his patience.

As the kettle started to whine, Thomas heard the musician begin to sing, and he froze. It sounded so much like Alastair. But it couldn't be, could it? With over 8 million people living in the city, he would not end up in Alastair's apartment by accident. His Alastair was certainly reserved and prickly, but it wasn't possible. It must be like all those times he thought he saw him on a street he'd never walked or heard his laugh in a café he'd never been to. Just his mind, tricking him. Even if he knew that voice so well, despite not hearing it in so long.

“It’s quite good, isn’t it? His first single just dropped.” Piers asked, bringing over his cup of tea. He hadn’t realized it, but he’d been staring intently at the door.

Thomas took the cup. “Hm? Yeah, I guess. Thanks.”

“You should look it up. It’s called “champagne problems” by Simurgh. That’s spelled- Well, it should come up.”

The name Simurgh sounded familiar, but Thomas couldn’t put his finger on where he knew it from. At Piers’ insistence, he pulled out his phone and brought up the song. As he skimmed through the first few lines, a cold feeling settled in his stomach.

“You booked the night train for a reason So you could sit there in this hurt Bustling crowds or silent sleepers You're not sure which is worse”

“Simurgh,” Thomas realized.

“Yeah, I think it’s Arabic or something.”

It took Thomas a moment to process that Piers was responding to him. “It’s Persian.” He was certain that Alastair would have some very stern words to say if he heard Piers confusing the two, actually. Thomas had admittedly let his Farsi skills deteriorate quite a bit since the breakup, but he was fairly certain the name came from the Shahnameh. There was no doubt in Thomas’ mind now: he was staying in Alastair’s apartment, and Alastair’s first single was about one of the most painful days in Thomas’ life. “I, er, I used to study it.”

“Oh, yes, that’s right!” Piers launched into a tangent that Thomas tuned out as he read through the rest of the page.

“Because I dropped your hand while dancing Left you out there standing Crestfallen on the landing Champagne problems”

“Thomas? Are you alright?”

He realized then that his hand was trembling so badly that his tea nearly spilled. He used his other hand to steady it. “Oh, uh, yes, I’m just tired.”

“Perhaps you should rest. I can ask Alastair to quiet down for a while-”

“No!” he exclaimed rather too forcefully. “No, that’s not necessary. I’d just rather not talk, if that’s alright.”

Piers nodded.

Thomas kept reading.

“Your mom's ring in your pocket My picture in your wallet Your heart was glass, I dropped it Champagne problems”

Of all the songs, why did he release the one about him? Why was it about a memory still so painful in Thomas’ heart, all of these years later? He remembered it so well, standing there, alone, shattered into a million pieces.

“You told your family for a reason You couldn't keep it in Your sister splashed out on the bottle Now no one's celebrating”

He was fairly certain that Barbara had been more excited than even he was, confident that Alastair would accept, and so very proud of her baby brother, all grown up. She’d been furious when it fell apart, but it was her who stood with him during the aftermath, who boarded him onto a train to Edinburgh to visit Eugenia when he couldn’t stand to be in the same city as him any longer, who went through his phone, blocking all of Alastair’s accounts so that he could obsess over him no longer, who comforted him as he wept and held him as he picked the pieces of himself back up again.

And all the more sour was the memory in light of her death.

“Dom Pérignon, you brought it No crowd of friends applauded Your hometown skeptics called it Champagne problems”

He looked up at Piers, who had fortunately become enthralled with something on his phone and was no longer paying Thomas any mind. He lifted the teacup gingerly to his lips, but he felt far too sick to take a drink.

“You had a speech, you're speechless Love slipped beyond your reaches And I couldn't give a reason Champagne problems”

A reason, that’s all Thomas had wanted. Just any explanation. He understood if they were moving too fast, or perhaps he’d misread something, but he just didn’t understand it.

Why? Why can’t you tell me why? I deserve an explanation, Alastair. Please, anything.

I… I’m sorry, Thomas.

Stop it! Stop apologizing! We can just go home and pretend this never happened, please, forget about all of it, it was a stupid idea-

Thomas, stop. I shouldn’t’ve… This was a mistake. I’m sorry I didn’t see that sooner.

That was the moment Thomas felt his heart stop beating.

“Your Midas touch on the Chevy door November flush and your flannel cure "This dorm was once a madhouse" I made a joke, "Well, it's made for me" How evergreen, our group of friends Don't think we'll say that word again And soon they'll have the nerve to deck the halls That we once walked through”

Despite the nearly two decades Thomas had spent in London before Alastair, it was never the same without him. He saw him everywhere he went, despite knowing he was thousands of miles away. After graduating uni that May, he accepted a spot at a graduate program in Spain and didn’t look back.

“One for the money, two for the show I never was ready so I watch you go Sometimes you just don't know the answer 'Til someone's on their knees and asks you "You’re the only one I want by my side, What a shame you’re fucked in the head," you said”

Those were the words that haunted Thomas’ nightmares, even now.

It’s you! It’s only you for me! It was always going to be you! But I can see now that I was never going to be enough for you, you and your secrets and walls and your lies. It’s a shame… it’s a shame you’re so fucked in the head, Alastair. You’ll never truly love anyone, will you? You’re not physically capable of it.

Alastair hadn’t responded. Thomas had wanted a rise out of him, any reaction at all, despite knowing how lethal and volatile Alastair could become when provoked. But there was nothing. Not a flicker of anything in his steeled expression. He’d simply looked down, apologized again for any pain that he’d caused, and left.

That was the last time they’d spoken.

Thomas and his sister left for Edinburgh that night, and when he’d returned to London, Alastair was gone.

“Well, you'll find the real thing instead Who'll patch up your tapestry that I shred And hold your hand while dancing Never leave you standing Crestfallen on the landing With champagne problems”

Thomas couldn’t imagine giving his heart to anyone again, not now and certainly not then. He’d dated in Madrid, but it had always stayed casual. He’d made sure of it. He could see now that he and Alastair had gotten together quickly, moved in together quickly, done all of it very quickly. After all, he’d fallen hard and fast. He gave all of himself to Alastair, and he’d nearly lost all of himself in the process.

“Your mom's ring in your pocket New picture in your wallet You won't remember all my Champagne problems

“You won't remember all my Champagne problems”

Now, he wondered what the rest of the story was. He’d convinced himself that Alastair had never loved him, that he was heartless and cruel, though he’d known that wasn’t true. Could Alastair have written this song if he’d never truly loved him? Perhaps he was a sociopath.

Thomas felt like he should run. Like he should pick up his bag and dart out of the apartment before Alastair could notice him, find some hotel somewhere with undoubtedly extraordinary high rates and just pretend like this never happened. He could get back on a plane and go back home to his parents and delete his phone browser history and pretend like this was all just a bad dream. But he could not move.

He didn’t know how many minutes had passed before Alastair’s door opened. He looked up with a start.

“Thomas,” Alastair breathed. He stood wide eyed, flushed.

“Do you two already know each other then?” Piers asked.

There was a moment of silence before Thomas cleared his throat. “We used to,” he said, looking down.

“I, er, I forgot that your friend was coming today,” Alastair told Piers. “It’s quite a long journey from London, you should have told me, I would have been quieter.”

Thomas considered correcting him for a moment, but decided not to. “Don’t worry about it. I heard you had your first big release. Congratulations.”

Alastair gave an awkward nod. “Thank you. Right, well, I’ll just…” He rushed over to the kitchen and pulled a bottle of water from the fridge. “I’ll try to be a bit quieter.”

“Don’t- It’s fine, really. In fact, I’m sure there’s some hotel in the area I can stay at for now, actually-”

“Well, don’t leave on my account,” Alastair interrupted. “We agreed to let you stay here, and the city’s a bloody mess right now. I’ll stay out of your hair, Thomas.”

Thomas only nodded as Alastair disappeared back behind his bedroom door.

Thanks for reading! Taglist (ask to be +/-): @stxr-thxif @chaos-and-starlight @zosiaenrique @lifewouldbebetteronmars @littlx-songbxrd @dianasarrow @eugeniaslongsword @bookswitchcraftandcats @jamesherondaleofficial @thomas-gaypanic-lightwood @livingformyself @anarmorofwords @foxglove-airmid @writeforjordelia @sapphic-in @jem-nasium @fortheloveofthecarstairs @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @shadowrunner2000 @thewarthatsavedmylife @fair-childd @itsjusta-j-really

[give-grian-rights]

Bets Against The Void (Whitelist AU)

Well.. I DID IT. This is only chapter 1. I planned on this being a one-shot, but if it was, it would take me so long to finish it. So, chapters it is.

This is crossposted on AO3. I don’t exactly stand with a lot of what it’s doing, but it’s not particularly easy to find fics on Tumblr I feel..and I will never go back to Wattpad. Not again.

@petrichormeraki Whitelist AU fic :)

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

They had just left the server to practice for MCC, that was all. Wilbur would be so proud, the two youngest would be sure, if they managed to win one. For Tommy, it would be his first win not aided by his  (Troubled, distrustful, anarchist-)  family, and Tubbo’s first-ever. 

Teams for the next MCC had yet to be announced, but it hadn’t mattered. Tommy had been invited back to every competition since MCC 2, after all- and the competition had already become accommodating to Tubbo, following the..Circumstances, of The Festival. 

The admins hosting the event were concerned, following the events they’d hear of about their server. They hadn’t known much; no one outside their world, really did. But, well..When asked about the status of Wilbur, and if he’d attend- the silence and reaction of the residents of his world were telling.

Barely a handful of players were at the server, practicing. It was calming, for the teenagers. The two had primarily stuck together, as they tended to do after the Pogtopia-Manburg war. The siblings were back together again. And they had each other- they trusted each other, unquestionably. Something more than they could say about anyone else.

By the time they made it back to the world hub, they were already exhausted. The timezone of their server would be late, they were sure. Their arms ached, and legs wobbled with every step. They both felt as if they could fall down, anytime.

Tubbo’s arm was looped around Tommy’s, content to be in the presence of his best friend, without the responsibility of the world on either of their shoulders’. Other players had barely batted an eye at the two- it wasn’t uncommon for teenagers or children to server hop by themselves. Nor for someone passing through a world hub to have outlandish and otherworldly scars. For them to both be teenagers, and scarred so heavily- well, that was a different story.

Still, not a soul stopped them as the tall blond led his friend to a nearby empty portal. As they stood still, Tubbo instinctively released his arm from the boy. Tommy kept Tubbo grounded to him as he worked, talking idly to them and inquiring about build plans. As Tubbo talked, Tommy quickly fidgeted with his communication tablet.

The thin, hovering device was pressed against the large obsidian frame of an otherwise normal, unlit portal.  Pressing out of his inventory, which by mandatory was empty, Tommy opened his server list. The individually named servers popped up. 

Some servers were empty, others grayed out and unavailable, no longer tended to. Muscle memory brought him to Dream SMP.  The status of the server was buffering- it’s availability of connection unclear. It wasn’t unusual- not for world hubs filled with tens of thousands of players at any given time.

With their SMP selected, the portal flickered for a moment- sparks of neon green rippling within, before quickly fading. The whooshes and crackling of a portal being lit, before failing, caught Tubbo’s ears.

“Uh...Is- is the portal good? Did it light? Why does it feel like it’s uh- not?” They tilted his head to the side, towards Tommy. The blond paused for a moment, blinking in bewilderment with his brows furrowed. “No- no it’s not lit..Uh.. What the shit? Hold on, Tubbo-” he huffed, pulling his tablet off the obsidian wall with ease to inspect it.

Blue eyes squinted at the screen. At the edge of the selection for Dream SMP, was an error sign, much to Tommy’s slight horror. “Fucking..Shit-” he hissed, pressing the icon. “‘Server closed for maintence’- what the fuck!” The teen spat. That got a few heads turned him, at his shouts. Most continued walking, merely giving him a wary glance.

Tubbo’s mouth dropped, scrambling for words. “Wh- why? I- I mean, I guess it makes sense- the- the server’s been acting up, and stuff- but- with what noticed?” He squawked, fumbling with their own device. Gliding their hand over the graphics, each thing he touched was read aloud to him quietly in his comm systems.

While Tubbo worked on locating his own messages, Tommy already found his. He scoffed indignantly, his hand clenching at the frame of the tablet. “The chat system for the server’s down too! Holy shit, fucking- what? Were no one fucking prepared for if we all get knocked out of the server at once? What the fuck!” Slight panic edged into his angered words as he shouted.

“Guess not,” Tubbo shrugged, pushing his tablet away, already frustrated with it. “Did Dream send out any sort of alert, for this?” Tommy only scoffed. The brunnett was sure he was rolling his eyes, as well. “Yeah, with a three-minute fuckin’ notice!  Just told everyone to figure it out for themselves, while he fixed shit! What a lil bitch!”

Glares were most certainly being sent towards them by now, Tubbo was sure. Gently pressing himself against the visibly upset and angered boy, he looped their arms back together, reassuringly squeezing his hand.. “We should get out of the way. I’m sure other people are waiting, there’s nothing we can do.” The brunett resigned himself to being the level-headed one between them.

“We can’t just fucking stay here, Tubbo! We ain’t got shit to eat, or anything. It’s not exactly like we thought of packing shit for a few hours of practicing!” The boy protested. He had just gotten L’manburg back, finally, a place he and his Tubbo were okay.

After a moment of silence, Tubbo would speak up once more. “I started installing some more, uh..Hack clients-” “TUBBO WHAT THE SHIT!” “Please, I’d really like to not get in major trouble today.” They’d wince, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. The feeling of stares lingered on his back.

“I got a client that should let me into the world last opened on a portal- which, in this case, should be Dream’s server. So we can get on there and- “Call Dream a dick.”

“Exactly. I wouldn’t think it’s dangerous, or unstable or anything to be there..I’m sure he and the rest of Dream Team are there.”

Walking back to the portal, guiding Tubbo back with him, Tommy unattached his own device from the frame. “Uh, want me to put yours on the portal? Or do you got it, Big Man?” The blond tilted his head towards the other boy expectantly.

Dipping their head in thought for a moment, Tubbo hummed. “You can do it. It’s all set up- besides I already turned my text-to-speech off, I was getting a headache from the voice.”  They decided, handing off his tablet to Tommy.

Within moments, Tommy had gotten it set up. Rather than having an individual server selected, the “Connect” button had been highlighted as seen as he reached his friend’s serverlist. 

A flurry of colors splashed within the portal, before settling on a distorting purple. Tommy squinted, glancing towards Tubbo. “That..Does not look like Dream’s server color.” Tubbo tilted his head curiously. “Well.. The site did say it could do that- It’s kinda just ripping the IP and plugging it in illigitmently- it’s incapable of displaying the correct resource, basically.” He played with his friend’s sleeve idly.

“..Fucking- alright, sure. Assuming this is safe- are you ready to hop in?” He pushed down any doubts. Really, nothing worse than what the two already lived through could happen. Tubbo grinned, nodding their head. And so, Tommy led the boy into the portal alongside him. Swirling particles filled his vision, as they flurried around the two- and then they were stumbling to the ground.

Tommy’s eyes shot opened- a dull, thudding pain in the back of his head, as he got his footing. Tubbo was doing the same, losing his hold on Tommy to lean against the portal frame to catch himself.  “...Well. Fuck.” Tommy hissed, rubbing his temple as he looked around the room.

The large portal behind them had dropped them into a large, pyramid-shaped room. The floor below them was sandy, greenery and bookshelves pressed against the walls. Tommy’s mouth dropped to the floor as he viewed ahead of him.

“W-What the fuck! What the shit these people- th-there’s just! Diamond armor!  On display - t-they have fucking elytras!  Holy fucking shit! ” He stammered out the words, his brows furrowed together in complete bewilderment.

“What? That’s insane!..This- this sounds like an ocean? Why can I hear water? Are we on an island?” Tubbo warily stepped, testing his footing.

Tommy instinctively reached back to grab his friend’s hand protectively, nodding vigorously. “I think we’re fuckin’ underwater, or some shit! There’s a water column, and- and the walls fuckin’ tilt, and then it’s all water and shit! The ceiling is just the ocean!”

..Descriptions never seemed to be Tommy’s strong suit. Nonetheless, Tubbo nodded along to the words, warily listening. All that could be heard was the crashing water overhead the water-bound structure. The boy shivered with unease at this.

“Are there any players? Did- did us joining get sent through the comm system, do you think?” Tubbo summoned his comm’s back to his hands, but Tommy must’ve already had his out. “Fuckin- i’m still connected to Dream’s. It didn’t give me the option to look at whoever the fuck’s this is. Tommy growled, uneasiness and anxiety gnawing at him.

 And then, there was a flash of light and particles. A man in a..Bee-themed, space/futuristic-Esque suit appears on the other side of the room. Another, far more mundane seeming man, manifested next to him.

The energy in the room shifted to something unfamiliar to the two teens. Tubbo shivered, desperately grasping tighter at Tommy. The blond boy had stood rigid, blue eyes cold and wary as he stared challengingly at the two strangers.

While the helmeted, bee-colored man visibly had plates of enchanted Netherite glittering on him, the human beside him was bare of any protection, defenses, or armor.   The teen didn’t know what to make of either of them.

Pacifyingly holding up a weaponless hand, the helmet man cleared his throat. “We weren’t particularly expecting visitors, or any surprise drop-ins this late to our season.” Their voice wasn’t accusatory, but it certainly edged on the skeptical side

From the yellow-tinted helmet, Tommy could barely make out a faint reflection of light in purple eyes. His throat felt full of vile, the blond boy practically growling as he held he pushed himself in front of Tubbo.

In retaliation, Tubbo gently shouldered the boy before poking out beside him, facing vaguely towards the man who spoke. “I’m sorry for him- this..This is an accident, uh, Sir.” They chuckled anxiously.

The helmeted man- who by now, Tommy had presumed was the admin- tilted his head. “While accidents aren’t necessarily uncommon on a server such as ours- one quite like this, so far into our progress certainly is.” The Southern fellow beside the bee-helmet man spoke up, his expression passive and at ease as he stared over the boys.

“You two don’t look like you’re here to give us issues- don’t you agree, X?” The helme-  X,  apparently- surveyed the two teenagers for a moment more, before nodding. “Good, then.” The human(?) smiled, dipping his head.

Tommy scoffed, glaring at the man.  “Where the fuck are we?” The blond’s eyes flickered between the two adults stood opposite of them. While the man remained unphased, glancing expectantly at X- said player took a step back, tilting their head.

“Well, considering there’s not really a way to  accidentally derp your way into here- I’d expect you’d know.” While X wasn’t unkind, his tone was expectant. Accusatory, maybe. 

Before Tommy could open his mouth to blabber and cover their asses, Tubbo put his arm out in front of the other. “It really was an..An accident- it wasn’t this server we were trying to get into- wherever we are.” He’d chuckle uneasily, shifting their weight. They weren’t sure what to make of their unknown surroundings.

“Our home-server seems to be down.. And- no one told us where to go,  so I said i knew a way we might be able to go back, and uh..It got us here.”  They’d finish, anxiety spiking as he was unable to gauge their reaction.

“Yeah- and we’re not gonna fuckin’ do shit. We don’t even know where the fuck we are. Just- leave us be!  Or send us back, or some shit-” “Alright, alright! Hey, we’re not fighting with you!” X would cut off Tommy, who’s blue eyes shot a cold glare to the slightly frazzled man.

The younger Brit couldn’t help but get amusement from the way the masked man was so visibly startled from his swears. “You two..Don’t particularly look in the condition to just.. stay in the World Hub. Do you have someplace else to go? How long have you been locked out?” 

Beside the apparent Admin, who had not-so-subtly manifested a transparent screen in front of him, the human looked in exasperated amusement at the helmeted fellow. “Forgetting something there, Shashwammy?” The Southern man spoke with fondness.

Before the admin could react, the man turned back towards the accidental intruders. “You’re in the wonderful world of hermits and crafting, my friends! Hermitcraft Seven, to be specific. I’m Joe, of the Hills variety- and this is my pal, Xisumavoid! Though he’ll likely go by just about anything you can think to call him.”

Tommy looked beside him at Tubbo for a moment, his brows pinched together as he quietly scoffed. This is gonna get really tiring if he talks like this all the time. The blond thought absentmindedly.

In the meantime, Tubbo himself was speechless- positively bursting at the seams. “Hermitcraft?! This is Hermitcraft? Oh, oh void I just broke into Hermitcraft-” They babbled for a moment, jittering as he attempted to compose himself. Tommy raised a brow, eyeing them. 

“You say that as if that means fuckin’ anything to me, Tubbo-”

“I. I’m so sorry, uh, Mr. Hills, Mr. Void!” Their voice cracked, as the words ran out of his mouth. “I swear this isn’t something we do on the regular, I’d never want to disrespect anyone, or any server- especially not Hermitcraft!” He’d continue, laughing anxiously. 

“I’m a huge fan of the work done here! Just, everything I’ve seen- uh, and, and heard, about the Hermits! Fu- frick. Uh. Sorry!”  Tubbo finished, practically panting. 

While Joe had seemed appreciative and amused, Tommy couldn’t get a read on Xisuma. Not that he particularly cared what either of them felt; he barely understood the meaning of the words from Tubbo, all that mattered was they weren’t about to belittle the other boy.

“Mr. Void.. That- that might be a new one-” The British admin had quietly chuckled easily, shaking his head. “No, no need for that. I’m Xisuma, or X. I’m glad you appreciate our work, the Hermits around here work non-stop. And we’d be glad to try and help you two, yes?”

“We don’t fuckin’ need help- We stay here, or we don’t. We don’t need pity or some shit. If you’re gonna get all fussy at the fuckin’ idea of us staying in the Worldhub, then just leave us be here, I guess. We don’t need anyone’s help or charity.” Tommy growled, his arms crossed stubbornly. He could hear Tubbo sharply inhale beside him, weakly nudging at his side.

The two inhabitants, Hermits, Tommy mused, seemingly shared a look for a moment. Tommy’s blue eyes were unyielding from them, as Tubbo’s quiet babble of scolding went through deaf ears.

Slowly nodding, the helmeted admin stepped back. “You two don’t have anywhere you could go?” He’d ask, hesitantly. Tommy glanced beside him, at the short, blinded boy. Blue from Ghostbur weakly stained his hands.

No one else outside of Dream SMP had learned about Wilbur’s fate, not yet. That certainly wasn’t a conversation either of them was willing to have yet, with anyone. Dream would be mad. Dream would be furious if word got out on the nature of his server. 

With that thought, Tommy tore his gaze away from his friend. The boy stared as close as he could to the Admin’s eyes, a challenging look in his hardened blue eyes. “Nowhere.”

Xisuma conceded, nodding. “Fine, then.” He agreed, his tone far softer than it had any right to be, from such an imposing figure. Tommy pondered for a moment if the Admin was taller than him. The possibility made Tommy feel all the more disdain towards him.

Tommy tilted his head, watching expectantly. “Well then? Can we just be- be fuckin’ left here, or some shit? We don’t need to be babysat.” “Tommy, please, don’t pick a fight here-” “Yeah, yeah, Tubbo..”

Xisuma winced, nodding. “Sure.. If you want to be left alone, that’s fine. There’s Elytras’ in the room behind us, and rockets in the chest. That’s the only way to get out, besides from the Nether. It should be linked to our Netherhub, so you shouldn’t have too big of a trouble, yeah?”

Tubbo hesitantly nodded, his grip tight around Tommy’s hand. “Alright, then.” Xisuma nodded, glancing towards Joe. Tommy had all but forgotten the man was there, the Southerner having been quietly observing them.  “Joe, you’re free to go, my friend.”

To Tommy’s perspective, Joe certainly seemed to have some reservations. Whether they were about leaving teenagers unattended or leaving strangers in their server, the blond wasn’t sure. Nonetheless, Joe accepted his fate, nodding breezily before enderpearling his way out of the spawn.

Xisuma turned back to the two, one final time. Tommy didn’t miss the way that Xisuma flinched at Tubbo’s large scars, nearly growling when he saw the admin’s reaction.

“You two have been competing in MCC.” That caught Tubbo, off-guard. The brunnett’s brows furrowed together, tilting his head. “Huh? How do you know that-”

“My Hermits have been competing there for a good while. I need to keep track of them all, I haven’t missed the team announcements.” Xisuma explained breezily, something akin to fondness in his tone. “The other Hermits said that they love MCC, and the other participants. And that they trust almost all of them- don’t take advantage of that, alright?”

Quietly scoffing, Tommy looked away. Beside him, Tubbo nodded. “We’ll try- thank you. For letting us stay here, just for now.”

Despite the situation, Tubbo couldn’t help but feel slightly giddy at the idea of being in a Hermitcraft world. He hadn’t been able to hear about, or see anything about their recent achievements in a long while.

“If you need anything, don’t be afraid to ask. I’ll add you two to the communication connection. Most of the Hermits have a..Tendency of getting themselves in trouble, quite a bit. Don’t be alarmed if someone spawns, they’re almost never here long enough to be dragged in,” He spoke casually, easily. Tommy wondered for a moment what exactly their definition of trouble was.

“Someone will be here to check on you, soon. Don’t get yourselves hurt, please. We’re happy to help here.” He continued, glancing between the two. Tubbo fidgetted, nodding numbly, as he could practically hear Tommy roll his eyes beside him.

Quiet mechanical whirring buzzed as holographic, shimmering bee-like wings expanded behind him.  “Good, then.” Xisuma dipped his head, before familiar red-and-white rockets appeared in his hands.

Before Tommy could lung to cover Tubbo’s ears, Xisuma had already taken off. White particles were left behind him, but the expected boom never came, merely a small pop and smoke. The sight of them, nonetheless, couldn’t help but leave a bitter taste in Tommy’s mouth.

While Tubbo was visibly startled, cringing and nearly tumbling over, he didn’t feel his chest constricting the way it usually would, typically. They’d both consider it a win, for now. Tubbo fell over into Tommy’s arm, as his best friend pulled him into a side hug.

They both slid down against the wall. The conversation alone had taken out all remaining energy they had left in them. Tommy’s gaze surveyed his friend for a moment. “So,” He said pointedly, Tubbo lifting his head to face him.

“What the fuck was that, and what the hell is Hermitcraft?”

[lucyintheskywithxanax]

Collide (vi.: to come together with solid or direct impact)

Pairing: Ally Mayfair-Richards x Fem Reader

Requested by anon: “i have a allyxfem!reader request.... i’d love to read something with prompt 40 (“Why are you scared of loving?”)”

A/N: so this is a short get-together fic that I hope you’ll like. I’m sorry anon it took me so long to write it; I cannot write for Ally for the life of me, it seems. x

Word count: 2 200

You bought her red wine. The nights when she would come back from DC and you would leave, you’d make sure there was a bottle of red wine waiting for her on the kitchen counter. Just so you would see her smile and pour herself a glass and sit on the couch. Sipping, relaxing.

But first she would check on Oz. She wouldn’t even take off her coat until she had bent over his bed and kissed his cheek. Brushed his blond curls from his eyes, pulled the cover over his shoulders.

Then she would open the red wine bottle. She would offer you a glass and you would refuse. Sometimes you would grab your coat and purse and leave. But sometimes, she would pat the couch as an invitation for you to sit by her side.

She would do most of the talking then, which was fine with you for you loved hearing her speak. She would tell you about her week on Capitol Hill, how the Senate had passed that one bill she had fought for, how “senator I-have-a-big-dick from Nevada” had tried to bribe her again.

“You said no, of course,” you laughed sleepily.

She nodded, raising her glass of wine and gesturing with her other hand. “I said no, of course.”

It was fascinating, you thought, how the Ally you knew talked with her hands but when you would turn on the TV and see her making a speech or answering questions, her hands would always be folded, on a table or against her stomach, and stay still. And how when she would get passionate about something she would speak very fast whereas the Ally you saw on TV, when sometimes you turned it on because you missed her and just wanted to see her, to hear her voice, always took time to breathe and made sure her pronunciation was perfect.

She had caught you once, sitting on the couch hugging your knees, eyes riveted on the TV screen as senator Ally Mayfair-Richards answered dumb questions from a dumb journalist. She came back home earlier than you expected, and you didn’t hear her over the sound of the TV and the sound of the longing in your heart.

Ally leaned in the doorway and smiled at the slightly sheepish look on your face. “Interesting thing you’re watching?” she teased.

You had muttered something in embarrassment, and she had winked at you, in that way she would always wink when she knew she had won. What had she won this time? Your heart, maybe. She must have known. Must have caught on the way you looked at her.

“I made you dinner,” you said as she took off her coat, not quite daring to meet her eyes.

Her face lit up. “You did? That’s so kind of you, sweetheart.”

You watched her as she sat down at the kitchen table and swallowed the first forkful. Her lips twisted into a half-amused, half-disgusted smile.

“Ok,” she laughed, grabbing a paper napkin to wipe her mouth, “ok, I mean – that was a nice try.”

“You’re just too good a cook,” you groaned. “I was doomed to fail even before I started making this.”

“It’s good,” she laughed, as she rinsed her mouth with a sip of red wine, “it’s so good.”

You rolled your eyes at her, trying to hide your blushing cheeks behind your hands, and she smiled, tongue between her teeth, and her eyes sparkled.

**

It had been rather strange, the way you and Ally had met. You had been running away from a toxic relationship after months of telling yourself you would never find anyone else. You were driving too fast, tears blurring your vision, and when finally you realized the traffic light had turned red you slammed on the brake but it was too late and you hit the car pulled up in front of you.

You liked to think it had been fate’s doing. Running away from sorrow only to slam right into love.

Ally came out of her car looking annoyed, but her expression softened when she saw your red eyes and drenched cheeks.

You had vaguely heard about her before. The racist lesbian who had shot a Mexican man and got away with it. The crazy woman who had been involved in a mass shooting. The brave woman who had survived a cult. The senator who wanted to change the world. You had loved seeing her rise. It had given you hope.

And here she was in front of you, flesh and bones, wearing skinny jeans and a dark grey sweater, looking vaguely dangerous, vaguely pissed, vaguely concerned.

You didn’t believe in love at first sight. You never had.

She asked you if you wanted to have a drink with her and you said yes. As you two sat across the table from each other, sipping coffee, Ally mentioned that she was looking for a new nanny for her son. You said you were currently unemployed.

It became a routine. Ally would spend a few days and sometimes the whole week in Washington DC and you would stay at her place to take care of Oz. He was a sweet, clever, obedient child. You grew fond of him and he grew fond of you. One day he said you were practically family. Another day he asked, “Are you in love with my mum?”

You brushed his blond curls back from his eyes to buy yourself time. Then you told him love was complicated. He asked you why. You gave him a tight smile, told him, You’ll understand when you’re older.

The truth was, you weren’t quite ready to trust again. And besides, Ally was ambitious. She wanted to shoot for the stars and fight for those who couldn’t fight. But you, you wanted to rest. Close your eyes, let your wounds heal. You thought perhaps the Ally you knew would want that, too, would want you. But the Ally on TV would never.

So you bought her red wine and sat with her on the couch and listened to her as she told you about her dreams and hopes. And if sometimes her hand would brush your thigh or if sometimes her eyes would linger on your lips, you didn’t think much of it. She was a politician. Part of her job consisted in seducing the whole world.

But then one night after she laughed at something you had said, she bit her lower lip, cocked her head to the side, glanced at your mouth. And you were about to stand up and say goodnight, but before you could do that, she put one hand on your cheek and kissed you.

Her mouth tasted of red wine. Her lips were slightly dry, and they were confident. She kissed you as if she were entirely convinced you would kiss her back. And you did, of course you did, for part of you had been wanting this for months. But then she slipped her free hand around your waist to pull you closer, and you broke the kiss and leaned away.

Ally removed her hand. Her eyes searched yours. “I’m sorry,” she said with a small, forced smile, tilting her head on one side. “Did I get this wrong?”

“I don’t know,” you breathed. You forced yourself not to glance down at her lips. “I don’t – I don’t know.”

Ally nodded. She averted her gaze, fingers fiddling with the hem of her sleeve. She reached for her half-empty glass of wine and downed it.

You couldn’t decide whether she was angry or disappointed or both, so you mumbled a faint, shy, “Sorry”.

Ally shot you a sideways glance, shook her head. You stood up. “I should go now,” you mumbled, not daring to meet her eyes.

“Ok,” Ally replied.

“I, uh – goodnight.”

“I’ll need you again next week,” she called when you were in the corridor. You turned. She had stood up, too, was leaning in the doorway and watching you. Her arms were crossed against her chest, her face polite but guarded, just as she looked on TV. “If that’s fine with you,” she added.

“Of course.” Your voice was too hoarse. You cleared your throat. You vaguely wondered why your heart was beating so fast when it felt like it was dying of shame.

She looked exhausted, the next time you saw her. She went upstairs to give Oz a kiss as you heated up some leftovers for her. Then she collapsed on the couch with a groan, offering you a smile and a soft “Thank you” as you handed her her plate.

You stood awkwardly in front of her, not knowing what to do or say. Were you expected to leave? Did she want you to stay? Nervousness made your head buzz.

Ally ate half of her food, then set her plate on the coffee table.

“Why are you scared of loving?”

Your body stiffened. Ally’s voice had been firm, but not accusatory. She leaned forward, elbows digging into her thighs, as she eyed you curiously.

You cleared your throat and stared down at your hands.

“You know, Y/N,” Ally went on after a while, eyes boring into you, voice controlled as if she were making a speech, “fear is your worst enemy. It makes people do crazy things. Believe me, I know.” Her voice quavered on the last word.

You glanced at her, swallowed. Ally waited. She gave you a small smile and stood up.

“You need to get rid of it,” she said softly. She cupped your face in her hands, sending a shiver down your spine. “Once it’s gone, you’ll be invincible,” she breathed, eyes growing wide with a kind of excitement that seemed so wild it almost scared you.

Your lips parted open. You felt your body lean towards Ally’s as if some gravitational force was drawing you to her. Her perfume filled your head, something you didn’t quite recognize but which was strong and intoxicating, like the smell of coffee.

Her eyes were too big. You were falling into them, and it was terrifying. You didn’t know what lay at the bottom of the pit.

“I don’t know how,” you whispered.

Ally stroke her thumb over your lip. “Let me show you.” She smiled, dangerous but fond enough not to scare you. “Close your eyes.”

You hesitated. Searched her face, swallowed again. She could hurt you with your eyes closed. Hit you, laugh at you.

You decided you trusted her.

You closed your eyes and squeezed them tight. Your mouth was still opened, and you were breathing through it, quick, anxious breaths. Something warm pressed against it and captured your lower lip.

You sucked in a breath as your heart skipped a beat and beauty exploded in your head. The air that filled your lungs tasted of Ally. She licked your lip, playfully, the tip of her tongue warm and wet.

Your heart was throbbing in your fingertips. It seemed to be pushing you forward, a meteor desperate to crash against Ally and put an end to its aimless drifting; it seemed to be pushing you away, a meteor terrified of the damage such a crash would make. It would mean the end, the end of you and the end of her, and the beginning, of a new celestial body made of the pieces of the two of you.  

Ally sucked on your lower lip, and your breath hitched.

“The only way to make fear go away,” she whispered into your mouth, like pouring a secret inside you, “is to replace it with something else.”

Alright, you wanted to say, fine – but with what? Ally had replaced her fear with anger, and she was using that anger to change the world. But you? Anger would destroy you. You were not strong enough.

Your hand had moved up to rest on Ally’s cheek. You only became aware of it now, the warmth building under your palm, the softness of her skin under your fingertips. You moaned softly into the kiss, pressed your pelvis against Ally’s. She wrapped one arm around your waist to pull you closer still.

And as Ally’s lips moved so softly and so passionately against yours, as she sighed, almost in relief, you told yourself you knew exactly what to replace your fear with: love. And perhaps, with a bit of luck, your love would soothe Ally, and her anger would make you stronger.

Before you knew what you were doing, you were wrapping both your legs around Ally’s waist and she was carrying you, giggling into your mouth. You dug the heels of your feet into her butt, giggling too, pressing kisses after kisses on her mouth. She pressed your back against a door to push it open, and then you were lying on her bed and she was lying on top of you, mouth crashing against yours to devour you.

You shivered under her touch, guided her head to your neck. She planted hungry kisses on your skin, from your jaw to your collarbone. You closed your eyes - and in the dark behind your eyelids, you saw the stars.

Tag list:  @sapphicsarahpaulson @mssallymckenna @supremeinlilac @pluied-ete @rainbow-hedgehog @pearplate @angelxsarahp @paulawand @asktammyr @peggycarter-steverogers   @coconutlipss ​ @saucy-sapphic @thesupremewife @paulsonpills

[wrenhyperfixates]

It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas

Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: It’s the Christmas season and Loki still has much to learn. Thankfully, he has his favorite little mortal to teach him all about it. Warnings: just straight fluff A/N: Alright, it’s December, and you know what that means: time for Christmas fics! Hope you enjoy my first installment for the holiday season. Happy reading folks :)

Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiant​​ @lunarmoon8​ @twhiddlestonsstuff​ @lokistan​ @thelokiimaginechroniclesficrecs​

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

It was bizarre, thought Loki, how seemingly overnight the world was lit up with red and green everything. Lights, wreaths, trees, inflatable decorations; you name it, and Loki could spot it from any corner in NYC. Everyone he passed seemed to be filled with joy, ready to start singing at any second. It was disconcerting, to say the least. Normally, people would give him the side-eye, but lately they passed by with a quick nod or wave. Loki doubted it had little to do with him and much more to do with the Christmas spirit floating in the air.

Ah, Christmas. He knew a decent amount about it, but had never paid too much mind to it. After all, it wasn’t like he ever really planned on living on Midgard. It was just the way things worked out. Now he wished he’d taken a bit more of an interest, for this fat, bearded, old man in a red suit made very little sense to him. And yet, he was everywhere this time of year. Though he could have asked any one of the Avengers about it, he refused to risk being teased. It should be easy enough to learn about if he truly desired to.

Loki marveled at the world in a sort of confused awe as he walked back to the Tower. This time of the year on Midgard, while so disagreeable to many, was perfectly fine with him. The bitter cold of the city at wintertime barely even felt like a summer breeze to him. One of the perks of being a perpetually cold frost giant, he supposed, was that you didn’t notice the freezing temperatures. As for those who did, well, he didn’t get why those silly little mortals didn’t just go somewhere warmer. You’d explained to him, once, that not everyone could afford to just pack up and move as they could on Asgard. A terrible shame, he thought, and he wished that he could do something to help, not that he would ever admit it. Feeling particularly generous, he dropped a one hundred-dollar bill in one of those collection bins that always popped up this time of year. It was guarded by yet another one of those strange, bearded men ringing a bell.

Hugging his so dark-green-it-was-almost-black peacoat to him, he rounded the final corner to get back home. Much like his gloves, it was more for style than anything else. Besides, no need to draw more attention to himself by dressing too lightly in the winter weather. Taking one last glance at the world around him, Loki pushed through the doors of the Avengers Tower.

“What in the Nine?” he sputtered as he was hit with a mouthful of glitter.

“Sorry, Mr. Loki,” Peter apologized. “We’re just decorating for Christmas.”

“By throwing glitter around?”

“Yeah. Why not? It’s Christmas, everything is glittery,” he said with a shrug.

“That, I can tell you,” Loki replied, patting Peter’s shoulder as he passed, “is absolutely true.”

All his other teammates seemed to be as excited about decorating as Peter was, though no one else was just haphazardly throwing that infernal sparkly dust. No, they were all using their special talents to hang garlands up from high balconies and banisters. Large ornaments and snowflakes were hanging from the ceiling. Every floor that Loki walked to was filled with merriment and yet more Christmas adornments. How they were put up so fast, the trickster god had no idea.

The common room was, much to his surprise, the least decorated place in the Tower so far. The team must have been saving this room for last, perhaps to do all together. Loki would have been upset that he wasn’t invited, but he was sure it was mentioned in one of those email blasts he always ignored. Now that he thought of it, he did remember seeing it in something that he skimmed. Regardless, this was a nice break from the hubbub in the rest of his home at the moment. In this room, there was only a tree put up and his angel working on prepping it. You.

“It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas,” you sang to the music you had blasting through the room, unaware of Loki’s presence. “Everywhere you go.”

He watched in wonder as you twirled about the floor, taking out ornaments and other assorted trimmings for the tree. You grabbed a silver and gold garland and began the tedious process of wrapping it around the artificial branches, still belting your heart out. Though Loki was unfamiliar with the words, he caught on to the tune and began humming along, startling you ever so slightly. He walked up to you and grabbed your hand, joining in your spinning and dancing. Prancing around the room with you, Loki was filled with unbridled joy, and he thought he might be beginning to understand the reason for all the joy the season brings.

As you sang the final notes, you and the God of Mischief collapsed onto the couch amidst the boxes of Christmas knick-knacks, laughing your heads off. When you tried to get up, Loki pulled you back down to him, starting another fit of giggles.

“And how is my little mortal today?” he asked, playfully ticking you a little.

“I’d be a lot better if you let me finish decorating,” you teased, poking his chest.

He sighed and relinquished you back to your duties, watching you walk back toward the tree. If only he had the courage to tell you how he feels, rather than just admiring you from afar. You were best friends, sure, but he longed for more. Much more.

“Loki,” you called in a sing-song voice, batting your eyes. “Can you help me, please?”

“Of course, little one.”

He helped you string the garland the rest of the way around the tree, using his magic to get even the highest boughs. You squealed in delight as you admired your work so far, throwing your arms around Loki to thank him for his help.

Soon, the rest of the team joined you and began to hang the ornaments. No one particularly cared about where they were put, just that everyone was having fun. Loki tried to stay on the outskirts of the activity, but everyone kept pulling him back in. It made him happier than he cared to admit that they all concerned themselves with him participating. That they wanted him to participate.

“What do you think, Mr. Loki? Here?” Peter questioned as he held up an ornament in a prospective spot. “Or here?”

“The first spot, I suppose.”

“No,” Thor chimed in, making Peter worried he was going to start one of their infamous sibling battles. “The second spot, for certain.”

“I guess. I still do not understand most of this ‘Christmas’ stuff, to be quite honest.”

“Well, why did you not say so, brother?”

“Yeah, we can teach you all about it,” you added, showing up beside them. Then you snapped your fingers, getting an idea. “The tree lighting is tonight! At Rockefeller Center. We should go to that!”

“That’s a perfect idea,” Peter agreed. “So it’s set then. A crash course, then a field trip to see the tree lighting!”

Loki smiled at his friends as they bustled around him, planning the rest of the day. He couldn’t wait for later, and it made the rest of the time spent decorating even more enjoyable. Between the constant singing and cracking of jokes, there was not a dull moment to be found. While it would have usually drained Loki, he felt as lively as ever. Maybe there truly was something special about the season, after all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hours later, Loki stood with his teammates as incognito as possible in Rockefeller Center. It had been agreed that they just wanted to be normal people for one, not celebrities. To keep your group warm, Loki had cast a heating enchantment that they were all more than grateful for as they waited for the tree to light. In the last minutes before it was set to shine through the night, you summarized your lessons on the holiday.

“So,” you began, “I guess it’s basically a time for love, showing others how much they mean to you. And sure, there’s all the commercial stuff about candy canes and elves and trees and Santa Claus, which is nice and all, but that’s not the real meaning. It’s about being with those you care about and spreading goodwill to all.”

Loki thought back to all the times he’d needed a little charity or a helping hand, or really just to be shown he was loved. There were certainly a plethora of scenarios to pick from in his life. A whole season to spread cheer and show everyone things are not as hopeless as they seem sounded like a splendid idea indeed.

“I quite like the sound of that,” he said with a smile. As you looked back at him, an equally warm glow adorning your features, Loki realized there was one person he loved more than anyone else. With a sudden burst of confidence, he went to tell you exactly how he felt. “I must say this now, I-”

He was cut off as the crowd began the countdown. You gave him an apologetic smile as the both of you joined in. Upon reaching the last number, the tree lit up, filling Loki with a warm, fuzzy feeling in his chest. That was only accentuated when you grabbed his hand, bursting with excitement and awe. Once the cheering went down, and your group began to depart, you remembered Loki had been about to say something to you.

“What was it that you wanted to tell me before?” you asked. “Before the countdown.”

“Oh,” he said, clearing his throat. He’d already lost his nerve. “It was nothing urgent. I hardly even remember now. Another time, perhaps.”

“Well, that’s ok,” you replied, though you sounded a little disappointed. “Whenever you remember is fine.”

Back at the Tower, everyone said goodnight and parted ways to go to bed, exhausted from the busy day. In the hall between your rooms, you and Loki stopped to say goodnight one final time. You paused mid-sentence, spying something green hanging from the ceiling above you. Loki followed your gaze upward and immediately went a shade of red that put Rudolph’s nose to shame. Even before all your lessons from the day, he knew mistletoe when he saw it. And, of course, the tradition that went with it.

He heard snickering from around the corner and spotted Peter and Thor waiting for one of you to make your move. Undoubtedly, they'd fabricated the situation to try to get you together faster than you were going by yourselves. To be fair, at said pace, you’d never be together.

“Just kiss already!” Thor shouted before ducking away to give you some privacy.

“Pardon my brother,” Loki said self-consciously. “If you do not wish to, there is no law saying-”

He was cut off for the second time that night. This time, however, it was by something much more pleasurable. You had stood up on your tip toes and placed a kiss to his cheek, too sheepish to do much else.

“Night, Loki,” you said to the still stunned god. “Talk tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow indeed, my little mortal,” he said, pulling you in for another kiss, this time on the lips.

Oh yes, it was decided. This season was magical.

[wireddless]

Codeine Scene (Five H. x Reader) [3]

Codeine Scene Masterlist

Authors Note: First off, I am SO sorry. New Years is always a slow time for me, and I did not mean to take this long to publish. Second of all, this chapter is a transition chapter into a much more fucked up story. I’m warning you now that the rest of this fic will get really really dark. I don’t recommend reading after this chapter if you can’t handle depictions of r*pe, murder, heavy drug use (cocaine, etc,) and other disturbing topics . I’m basing this story off of personal experiences, and in no way do I want someone who isn’t ready to read something like this to read this. This is like the last safe chapter, please do not read after this if you can’t handle the topics mentioned above

Summary: Klaus moves Reader up to Ben’s old room early in the morning. Afterwards, they eat breakfast and decide to trip on acid together. Five learns more about her than he expected to today

Warnings: Drug use (LSD[acid],) mentions of suicide, mentions of sex

Word Count: 3777

Taglist: @alexander-hamilhoe @dumdumsun

The gentle shaking of (Y/n)’s shoulder pulled her from her sleep. Klaus stood over her, harshly whispering her name. Looking towards his window, she could see the sky was just barely starting to light up, it was still early. 

“Klaus it’s like 7:30!” She quickly grabbed the sheet that was covering her from the waist down and yanked it over her head. A small groan left Klaus’s mouth and he yanked it back off of her. “It’s Sunday!” She tried convincing him to let her sleep in, but it was no use. 

“I talked to Ben and he said you could stay in his room!” Klaus wrestled with (Y/n) over the blanket, knowing she was still tired. Ever the impatient man he was, Klaus spoke again, “We gotta get you settled in right now!” 

“Fine! Fine. I’m up.” (Y/n) sat up and shoved her matted hair out of her face.  “Why right now?” Klaus looked at her like the answer was obvious. It wasn’t, of course. 

“Because trauma can be associated with places! Coming in here right after what happened yesterday could be an issue.” He grabbed a hair brush off of his dresser and pushed her to sit on the bed. Climbing behind her, he started to brush her hair. “Even if you aren’t reminded of it in here, it’s always good to be able to have some privacy.” He made valid points. 

“I guess you're right.” Klaus was extraordinarily gentle with her hair, pulling out all of the mats and even putting in the effort to put it in a low ponytail to keep it out of her face.  “Thank you.” (Y/n) turned and smiled at Klaus, pulling him into a quick, tight, hug. 

Ben's room was up the green stairway, across from Five’s room. (Y/n)’s face scrunched a little when she realized Five would be right across the hallway, but she didn’t complain. Her arms were a little tired from carrying her suitcase and heavier back pack up the stairs so early in the morning, but it would fade rather quickly.

Klaus opened the door and stepped aside, letting (Y/n) rush to the bed with her heavy luggage. “Dad replaced everything in this room a week after Ben died.” Klaus sat on the bed next to her luggage, and she plopped next to him. “He said old reminders would only set us back, so he made this one of many guest rooms.” Klaus peered in the closet, knowing that Ben’s academy uniforms were no longer hanging pristinely on the rack. 

“He didn’t die in here, did he?” (Y/n) turned to look at Klaus, feeling heavy sympathy. 

“Oh no! A mission went wrong, and I suppose we all messed up, but the monster inside his chest started tearing him apart.” Klaus’s usual, very happy energy, was replaced by a solemn, cold one. “He died in the infirmary.” Klaus looked down at the bedsheets. They weren’t the one that Ben had used. “I still talk to him every day, but it still makes me a little sad.” Klaus sniffled and rubbed his eyes. 

(Y/n) pulled Klaus into a bone crushing hug, knowing he needed the comfort. “That’s terrible.” She was a very empathetic person, relying more on feeling than thinking, so she was struggling to hold back her own tears. “Are you sure he’s ok with this?” 

“Yeah! He said something about moving on, and finally attempting to find peace.” Klaus clapped his hands once as he stood. “He’s kind of started meditating too, which is kind of weird, because he’s a ghost and all.” He stood and glanced around the room, getting a good look at it before (Y/n) would make it her own. “Let’s go get some breakfast after we unpack, huh?” 

“That sounds nice.” (Y/n) stood and hugged Klaus again, silently letting him know that she was there for him. 

The walk all the way down to the basement kitchen was unexpectedly exhausting. Six flights of stairs later, two flights between every floor, they were sitting at the table, staring at Five scrape his eggs off the skillet and onto his toast. 

“I’m not making eggs for you two.” His voice was monotone and annoyed. He wasn’t a morning person. “Take some responsibility and make them yourself.” Five grabbed his food and coffee, and looked at both of them before giving his usual tight-lipped smirk and blipping away, presumably to his room. 

Klaus released a few small giggles he was holding in and hopped off the island. “He always seems to add a little spice to life.”

As he was making his way over to the fridge to grab some eggs, (Y/n) asked; “Is he like this every morning?” Not wasting a second after her question, Klaus replied. 

“Yep!” He pulled out four eggs and set them in a clean bowl on the counter. “Without a doubt. It’s worse on weekdays too, because the classes he teaches are all early in the morning. Now do you want scrambled, fried, or boiled?” 

“Scrambled, please.” As Klaus got to work on making breakfast for the two of them, she thought about what Five might teach. “Hey Klaus?” 

“Yeah?” Klaus was stirring the already scrambled eggs in the skillet. 

“What does Five teach? I mean it makes sense that he’s a teacher, but I just can’t think of what he’d be so willing to teach for a living.” Klaus looked back at (Y/n) before down at the eggs again. Her chin was resting in her hands, and she stared over at him, waiting for his answer. 

“I think some sort of ethics class, like there’s different types of ethics, but that’s all I really know. He doesn’t really talk about work, and it’s a bit weird considering he was an assassin.” Klaus split the scrambled eggs in two separate bowls with forks in them and gave one to (Y/n). 

“He killed people?” (Y/n) dug into the eggs, shoving them in her mouth, listening for Klaus. 

“We’ve all dabbled with a little murder before, it’s not really that big of a deal for us, but he swore never to kill for someone else again, I’m pretty sure.” Klaus fillet out a little moan of joy as he started filling his own stomach with the eggs. 

“That must be why he was so unphased about what happened yesterday, that makes me feel a lot better.” She concluded, trying not to remember the way she nearly beat the life out of the man in Five’s car as she shoved more of Klaus’s eggs in her mouth. “These are really good!” 

“Danke!” Klaus thanked her in German, with a mouth full of eggs. He swallowed them and continued speaking. “That actually reminds me- you’ve done acid right?” (Y/n) thought on the question for a moment before answering. 

“No actually, but I did do shrooms a lot with my friends before I dropped out.” Her fork scraped the bowl, trying to get the last of the eggs. 

“Good! You have experience.” Klaus poured the last of his eggs in his mouth, straight from the bowl, before swallowing. “Would you like to do acid with me? You don’t have to, but I feel like this would definitely raise your spirits.” Klaus leaned toward her, waiting for her answer. 

“I’d love to actually.” (Y/n) swallowed the last of her eggs, and stacked her bowl with Klaus’s, before taking them to the sink to wash them. Klaus stood and followed her, digging in the breast pocket of his half-unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt and pulling out a small square of folded tin foil. 

“Great! Now stick your tongue out.” Klaus unfolded the foil and pulled a tiny white square of paper, roughly the size of a phone keyboard key, out from the six-ish others in it. (Y/n) stuck her tongue out as she rinsed the now-clean bowls and Klaus placed the piece of paper on it, before sticking one on his own tongue.

(Y/n) stuck her tongue back in her mouth and sucked a bit on the paper. “So do I swallow it, or…?” The tab didn’t make it any harder to talk, thank god. 

“If you want to, but you absorb it faster when it’s in your mouth.” Klaus picked up the bowls and started drying them. “It’s not bitter at all is it?” Klaus asked, checking to make sure she didn’t take a laced tab.

(Y/n) focused on the tab again, not really noticing any taste. “Not that I can notice.” Klaus smiled as he shut the cabinet where he placed the bowls. 

“That means we’re all good! You can swallow it when the paper feels soggy enough, though, you’ve probably absorbed most of it by now.” Klaus led her back upstairs to his room, practically dragging her by her wrist. “Things are gonna get really funny for a little bit before you actually start tripping.” Klaus shut the door behind them and plopped on his bed. 

“Doesn’t it take like an hour to kick in?” This wasn’t her first rodeo, so she knew her way around at least a bit. 

“Yeah yeah, it’s kinda like shrooms? But the visuals and the trip are just a bit different, you’ll see what I mean.” Klaus grabbed a joint he had rolled earlier and lit up, taking a few puffs before passing it to (Y/n). “Just settle in for like half an hour and then get up to see how you feel.” 

•••

Tripping on LSD was a profound experience. (Y/n) wasn’t able to go outside, as it was raining cold, so she stayed inside, wandering around the house. She and Klaus made some really cool art, and Klaus held it over the vents to dry while she was walking around the house. 

Tripping felt like seeing the universe fully for the first time, and she could somewhat understand Klaus’s view of the world. Many times throughout the last three hours, she thought she saw Five blipping away out of the corner of her eye. She had dismissed it every time, of course.

Now the trip was peaking, and the visuals were insane. The air around (Y/n) felt like breathable, transparent, clay, and it was a little overwhelming with all the visuals, so she opened the door in front of her and quietly sat next to it, letting out a long, happy sigh. Closing her eyes, she paid attention to the gorgeous visuals she could see behind her eyelids. 

(Y/n) didn’t even notice Five sitting on his bed, staring at her from over his book. She was too focused on the movement behind her eyelids, and the euphoric feeling surrounding her, so when Five spoke, she nearly jumped out of her skin.

“I think you have the wrong room.” The sound of Five closing his book reached her ears. 

“Oh my god I’m so sorry, I- I wasn’t paying attention I’ll leave.” (Y/n) stumbled over her words as she tried to stand, clearly embarrassed.

“No, no, it’s fine actually.” Five spoke, rather out of character. “A little company once in a while feels nice, and I see no harm when you’re being quiet.” His face was beyond distorted, but she could still recognize his permanent scowl. 

“Really?” (Y/n) settled back down, more relaxed and at ease. 

“Yeah, I don’t really care.” Five grabbed his book again, opening it back to where he was. “Just don’t be too annoying.”  

“I won’t don’t worry.” Five grunted quietly at her response. A smile painted itself on her face, and she slid all the way down the wall, with her head now on the floor with the rest of her. 

•••

And she was quiet. Five watched for like an hour and a half as her eyes slowly focused on something new in his room every few moments. She was quite taken by the math equations across his wall, and he found it rather cute. He started to find her less annoying, now understanding that she coped the way his brother did. 

He was alone once again in his room now, no longer accompanied by (Y/n). In fact, she was accompanied by one of her “friends.” She barely even knew the guy. 

Five could hear everything. Every moan. Every word spoken with the intent of being quiet, but wasn’t held under the gentle guise of a whisper. It infuriated him. 

Of course, he understood that she didn’t grow up in a particularly healthy home, given that she was in a homeless shelter at almost 18, so she didn’t understand healthy coping habits. It genuinely hurt his heart, if just a little bit, that he could watch another hurt soul walk down the same path as his brother. 

Klaus had gotten help for his addictions, and was off addictive drugs completely, but even Five understood that not everyone will be able to get the help they need. He wouldn’t say he had any feelings for her, but he still felt sympathy. 

Knowing that it was how she coped made hearing all of it a little easier, but he still wasn’t able to handle it after hearing it for fifteen minutes, so he jumped down to the kitchen, brewed himself some herbal tea, added a little vodka, and read his book, criss cross, on the table in the center of the room, attempting to ignore what was happening right across from his room. 

•••

Bailey had just left, and (Y/n) was exhausted. He was kind of an ass, and he treated her like shit in middle school, but he was a horny teen, and it was really easy to just invite him over.

The trip was fading out now. She was no longer peaking, and the visuals were far less intense. (Y/n), after standing at the stairs, staring at them for a couple minutes, deemed it safe to be able to walk down them. She knew it was normally safe to go down the steps while tripping, but something in her head told her to wait, so she did. 

These particular steps were a little steep, as well, so she made her way down slowly, leading herself to the kitchen in the basement. Her bare feet padded quietly on the floor as she walked to the stove, turning the heating element under the tea kettle on. The bags under her eyes felt so beyond heavy, and she knew she’d be sleeping deeply tonight. 

“You done up there?” Five’s voice pulled her out of her thoughts. (Y/n) turned and leaned on the counter to face him. 

“Yeah, yeah, he left like ten minutes ago. I’m just really tired and want some tea to relax I guess.” Her arms were crossed, comfortably holding each other up. 

Five hummed in response. “Well I see we both thought of the same thing.” He lifted his mug of tea, peppermint maybe, and put it to his lips. 

“I thought you only drank coffee.” (Y/n) chuckled a little feeling the heat of the stove begin to reach her back. 

“Well it wouldn’t be very logical to drink caffeine so late in the day, especially when I have to teach an early class tomorrow.” Five flipped the page of his book, continuing to read while talking to her. 

“Makes sense.” Her words were drowned out by the high whistling of the tea kettle, letting her know she could pour it into the cup. Grabbing the tin of loose leaf tea, she hummed as she scooped it into the reusable tea bag that was next to it. 

(Y/n) dropped the tea bag in the cup, following up with the boiling water. She turned, bringing her and her cup to the table, now sitting next to Five. Five was a grumpy, annoying, old, man who has to grow up all over again, but his company was enjoyable, it contrasted hers in such a way that it comforted her. It made her feel like her ADHD was less severe, like her inability to focus was matched by someone who could do nothing but focus. 

Only a day had gone by since they met, and she was already comforted by him. 

Five shut his book and looked over at her. The more he got to know her, the more subtly enjoyable he found her. Her sitting not two feet from him didn’t bother him as much as it usually would. He was kind of ok with that. 

“You drink peppermint?” (Y/n)’s voice was scratchy and hoarse. She really did need the tea. 

“Yeah, it’s the least fruity from what I’ve tried.” He took another sip. “Simple classic.” He set it down and looked over at her, engaging in an unexpected conversation.

“I tend to prefer fruitier teas, I’ve noticed.” She looked down at the cup that she’d been drinking out of for a couple minutes now. “They go down easier and really comfort me. Reminds me of my mom, she only ever made fruity teas.” She took another sip, letting the warmth fill her up. 

“What happened to your mom?” Five looked back down at his drink, then back up at the girl next to him. “I noticed that you didn’t exactly live with her when we picked up your stuff.” 

“Yeah..” (Y/n) hesitated a little. He was awfully blunt. “I was like seven when it happened, but I’m told it was a double suicide, between her and dad.” Her legs were swinging a little nervously. “Mom sent me up to my room one night and told me not to come out until she opened the door, no matter what. The next day a detective came into my room and carried me out screaming. They were both dead on the floor. I lived with my aunt and uncle after that.”

“Oh shit.” Five didn’t expect her answer to be this upsetting. 

“Yeah. My uncle told me it was a double suicide, my aunt said the same thing, she manipulated me and made me think they did it because of me.” (Y/n) sighed into her drink, her distorted reflection staring back at her. “I don’t even remember what the scene looked like, just a lot of blood. I don’t look at anything about it either, don’t really want to relive it.” 

“That’s really tough, wow.” Five chuckled uncomfortably and finished his drink. “I didn’t know my mother, but my mom was a robot. She was pretty much indestructible, but she was fully shut off when our house was being attacked a long time ago.”

“Oh my.” (Y/n)’s voice was soft, hoarse, and tired. Her hand gently moved to rest atop his, not really knowing how else to reassure him, if he even needed it, of course. “I’m sorry about that.” 

Five didn’t even seem to notice his hand being covered. “No it’s fine, I got over it long long ago.” His words were just slightly slurred, and his eyes had reddened slightly.

“Well I’m here if you ever need like, a hug or something.” (Y/n) laughed. “I don’t really know how else to comfort anyone.” 

“It shouldn’t be your job to comfort anyone, that’s not your responsibility.” Five chuckled and smiled slightly. (Y/n) hadn’t expected him to smile, and it wasn’t as weird as she thought it would be.

Before she could even mention it though, Klaus’s happy, booming voice echoed in the kitchen as he practically skipped to the fridge. As she yanked her hand away from Five, she noticed the way he pulled his arm away as well. Maybe he did notice?

Klaus and Five started talking about something as he got off the table and placed his cup in the sink, but she wasn’t paying attention. Before her attention was quickly pulled to the floor, she thought on the way Five had wrenched his arm away. 

As anxiety inducing as it was, the LSD that was still in her system made it easy to quickly move onto the next thought. Before she knew it, a flash of blue wrenched her out of her head and she looked up at Klaus, now alone with her in the kitchen. 

“Hey, sweetie.” Klaus kissed her cheek and led her gently off the table and to the stairs. “Your trip going good?” He popped a black olive in his mouth. 

“Yeah it’s going fine, I really like it. It’s kinda different from shrooms, but not like a bad different.” She was just two steps behind him, trying to keep the same pace as him. 

“That’s great.” Klaus hummed as he popped another olive in his mouth. “These are absolutely amazing. I figured you would like it, it’s really calming and stuff for me. Makes the sad feeling kinda disappear for weeks after.” 

“Oh same, I’ve just felt creative and warm all day.” They stopped in front of Klaus’s room, Klaus still eating his olives. “I’m actually exhausted too, the trip felt really nice.” 

“Well I’m glad I could have helped.” Klaus pulled her into a tight hug, humming loudly. Hugs felt great on psychedelics, she had noticed. 

“You helped so much.” (Y/n)’s voice was slightly muffled by Klaus’s chest. She pulled out of Klaus’s chest, speaking again. “I’m gonna go to bed now, if that’s ok, I’m so so tired.” She laughed a little. 

“That’s fine, I’m gonna crash the moment I hit my bed, so..” Klaus smiled down at her, thankful for this mini-him. 

“Night night, Klaus.” (Y/n) and Klaus both separated to head to their rooms, both about to sleep deeply enough to miss a train going through the house. 

The stairs up to her new room were an almost pastel green color, covered by what looked to be years of grime and nicotine stains. It added character, she thought. The checkerboard floor at the top of the stairs seemed to lead her straight to her new room, which she was really thankful for, she was exhausted. 

Her fingers wrapped around the doorknob, twisting the old carved crystal just enough to open it. She closed it the same way, with just enough effort for it to work, she could have sworn she saw something blue flash near her, but she doubted herself immediately. Once she plopped on the bed, her fingers dragged her phone across the sheets towards her. 

It took (Y/n) two full minutes to open her phone, not remembering her password and then not being able to type the right letters slowed her down significantly. It wouldn’t matter though, because once she turned on some quiet music, she was fast asleep.

[kingreywrites]

The Smolder Tragedy

Fandom: Tangled

Word Count: 3314

Summary: A very concussed and very out of it Eugene Fitzherbert comes to a devastating conclusion about his smolder. His kidnappers are not all that sympathetic about it.

Note: that title is so corny god asgfdgh anyway, this is a self-indulgent hurt/comfort fic, but there’s quite a bit of hurt!! So be warned that there is talk of a concussion, some violence (because he’s kidnapped), and also a mention of spiked water (he’s mostly fine though but I’d rather be safe)

Read on ao3

Now that he was thinking about it, Eugene realised that the smolder never... truly worked on anyone. Well, when he was younger, adults tended to go easier on him if he made a somewhat cute face at them, and in the following years, doing it never hurt his chances with the people who were already attracted to him. But neither of these facts actually attested of the efficiency of the smolder in itself, and if Rapunzel was left particularly unimpressed, Eugene wasn't sure anyone had ever really swooned because of it.

Oh, the demon Rapunzel from the weird mirror dimension did swoon that one time. Was that a good sign, or a bad one?

"The hell are you talking about?" someone growled, entering the room loudly and making Eugene's headache worse, if that was even possible.

That guy was one of the reasons Eugene was thinking about his smolder's actual abilities - or lack thereof. Because see, if the smolder worked, which he was now doubting, he could simply use it on this guy, and that would make him swoon, and Eugene would use the distraction to get free from the chair he was tied on, and get out of here quickly. But Eugene didn't think the smolder would work. Not because Mr Beetle here (lovingly named after the bug which landed on his head during Eugene's kidnapping - he'll get to that part later) was immune to his charms, but because maybe... perhaps... the smolder had never been effective?

This was devastating news. Truth really was the heaviest burden a man could bear.

Beetle grabbed his hair and pulled his head back roughly, making Eugene see stars and forget, for a moment, the whole smolder dilemma. But then he was being yelled at things he could barely understand between the buzzing in his ears and the concussion he got earlier - without forgetting the stuff they made him drink that made his head all fuzzy and his thoughts completely muddled - and he couldn't help but wonder if he could smolder his way out of here. That'd be nice. It had been what, four days since they got their hands on him? Five? Eugene was bored now.

"If-," he coughed, feeling like the hoarse voice he could hear wasn't his own, "if I tried to seduce you, would you break my nose?"

Going by the way his head was slammed back again, Eugene took it as a yes. That was a shame, truly. He knew that his life was different today, that he had changed for the better and was now the Captain of Corona's Guard, so really, he didn't need the smolder - but he loved that silly little trick. It felt like discovering that Santa wasn't real all over again. Not that he ever believed in Santa, since the matrons didn't see fit to talk about that particular tradition when everyone knew that orphans wouldn't get Christmas gifts, but that's what Eugene thought it must feel like.

His head hurt a lot.

A big hand tipped his chin up, since he had been looking at his pants and the stains on them (would he be able to get the blood out?), and he realised that Beetle was trying to make him drink that weird stuff again. The one that made his head feel like it was floating above his shoulders, and made him feel warm in the most disgustingly sweaty way. Eugene hated it. So he kept his lips as tightly closed as he could, and trashed in the chair to make it more difficult on that goon.

This was becoming ridiculous. The fact that he even got kidnapped already hurt enough as it was - they got the best of him after a very exhausting day, and pointed a crossbow at his heart before hitting him so hard over the head he was pretty sure he stayed unconscious for a few hours straight... which Rapunzel would probably think was pretty concerning. For his part, he was more annoyed about the constant headache than anything. Mostly, he couldn't believe he got kidnapped.

He didn't even remember if anyone had seen him, and hoped no one had gotten hurt during the whole ordeal. In any case, he was pretty embarrassed and, to add insult to injury, they didn't even care about him. He was Captain of the Guard for god's sake, you'd think that would make him interesting enough, but no, they only wanted him to pressure the royal family.

Being used as leverage sucked. Thinking that they might hurt the people he loved by using him made him feel sick, even more than their weird drugged water did.

"If you keep being difficult you're gonna regret it," Beetle threatened, and Eugene would have told him that he was the one who would regret stuff soon, if he hadn't been also preoccupied with keeping his mouth shut. Which, ironically, was something people had asked of him a lot in his life, and that he had always refused to do - until someone tried to force him to keep it open. He never did like authority, after all. The matrons would always tell him that he was a troublemaker of the worst kind, and that someday, life would get back at him for the chaos he created. They were yet to be proved right about that one but-

Beetle punched him in the gut, making Eugene gasp and cough in pain, before his nose was pinched and he was forced to swallow the water, nearly choking on it.

"Rude," he noted weakly when it was over, his throat on fire as he heaved. Already, he could feel the fuzziness coming back with a vengeance, his vision blurring at the edges because of whatever mysterious compound they forced him to drink. He'd have to ask Varian about it. The kid would know, certainly, or would at least be excited to research it, and it was fun when Varian was excited. He still had that weird maniacal villain vibe mixed with his genuine and adorable love for sciency things, and that was an interesting combination to see in action.

The door to Eugene's cell was slammed shut and, in the dim light, he understood that he was alone once again. Beetle didn't even say goodbye. It was okay, though, because Eugene didn't think he could have answered without puking - the entire world was swimming in front of his eyes. Closing them only made everything even more unsteady, and now Eugene wondered if he could even try to do a good smolder in that state. He couldn’t feel his face.

His eyes were heavy, and it didn't take long before he passed out again.

------

Next time Eugene woke up, it was to the sound of yelling outside the door of his cell, loud and definitely not the kind of voices he wanted to hear. Maybe it was stupid, but each time he opened his eyes, he hoped to find Rapunzel here, ready to rescue him, but it hadn't happened… yet.

Trying to raise his head only awakened the ache in his neck and back from the terrible position he was in - he hated sleeping on chairs. Being homeless for a good part of his life had taught him that the bare ground was always preferable, but he didn't think he could argue about his sleeping conditions with his kidnappers. He pulled on the rope that was keeping his hands tied behind his back, and noticed that it was giving a little. If he could just-

"Your plan better work!" someone yelled, startling him - but it was still coming from behind the door. "You don't realise what we're risking with this!"

"Of course it'll work! Do you really think that the son-in-law of the King and the husband of the Princess is worthless? They're gonna listen to us because they'll want him back."

That was… touching, in a strange way. Not that Eugene enjoyed being taken for ransom, or whatever it was they wanted to do, but it did remind him that he had a family, and that they would fight to get him back. Rapunzel was probably worried out of her mind, right now, and this was enough to spur him into action again, because he didn't want to simply wait here for rescue like an idiot.

"What if they attack us?" the scared guy yelled again, as Eugene pulled on his bounds again, ignoring the sharp sting of the rope cutting into his skin, and his ever-present nausea. "What if- what if instead of paying, the guards find us and destroy our base?"

In Eugene's opinion, the guards weren't really the threat here - this guy didn't want to know what Rapunzel would do to him if she found them. The thought was enough to make him chuckle, which in turn made him realise that the weird water might still be having an effect on him, because he hadn't managed to keep himself quiet. Not great.

His fingers fumbled with the knot he could feel, trying to get it to loosen even more. Unfortunately, the door of his cell -more like a closet than a cell to be honest- was thrown open, and he had to act as innocent as possible.

Going by the glare he received, he was doing a poor job of it.

The new guy (he'd call him Martin, because he had a Martin face) seemed to enjoy kicking him around a bit more. The only silver lining was that he seemed intent on kicking his ribs, and consequently left his poor head alone. Still not the best, but Eugene would take it. He didn't have much choice anyway, since Martin decided to greet him with his fists today.

"Feeling better yet?" Eugene breathed when he thought it was over. He earned another kick for the trouble.

"You better hope they pay what we ask of them," Martin snarled, way too close for Eugene's comfort. "Because I can't say that I won't enjoy killing you if it comes to that."

"Aww, I'm touched, truly," was all Eugene could say, before a hand ended up around his throat, and he couldn't talk anymore. He vaguely heard Martin threatening him again, but honestly, the guy should realise that it was difficult to be afraid of him when Eugene was barely conscious enough to understand him.

It went down the same way as it always did, these days. Eugene was forced to drink that damned drugged water -it was getting more disgusting each time-, and he couldn't breathe, and the Martin guy said something about hurting Rapunzel, and if you think you're gonna be able to touch her you've got another thing coming you assho-

And Eugene lost consciousness. Again.

------

When he woke up again, Eugene couldn’t breathe. The world was loud, too loud, his vision was swimming and the room spinning under him, and he couldn't- it was as if his breaths were getting stuck in his ribcage, and was he still being choked, what-

"Hey, Eugene, it's okay, look at me-"

Dragging in air painfully, he opened his eyes to a slit, meeting the frantic and oh so green ones of- Rapunzel?

"Come on, it's okay, breathe with me," she said, voice low, and he listened to her - how could he not? For a moment, when it felt like he was still dangerously tethering on the edge of choking, he wondered if she was even real, or if it was all a dream conjured by the lack of oxygen. Then, she brushed his hair back, her palm warm and tangible on his cheek, and it felt real enough that he melted into it.

"That's it," she encouraged him gently, one hand resting lightly on his heaving chest. "That's it, breathe. I won't let them hurt you anymore."

He couldn't hold back a nervous chuckle at that, but going by the pinch of her eyebrows, that wasn't the right reaction. After a few seconds, when he finally felt like his lungs weren't about to explode, he tried to smile at her. It only seemed to worry her more.

Her fingers trailed along his jaw, tracing what he knew were dark bruises on his skin. She went higher, to his hair, and touched something that immediately made him flinch.

"Sorry, sorry, I-" she exclaimed quickly, pushing his hair away again. "I'm gonna get you out of here."

His perceptions were still blurred, as if he was underwater, but he could hear now the sounds of fighting and chaos coming from behind the door. Rescue. He was being rescued - Rapunzel was rescuing him. He knew she would do it.

"Well, I wish I had been a little quicker," Rapunzel said, her voice wobbly.

"You're just in time Sunshine," he whispered, his throat raw.

"Am I?"

He didn't like the self-deprecation in her tone, nor the worry that didn't seem able to leave her features, and he felt guilty for being the cause of it. If he hadn't been kidnapped-

"Eugene? Eugene, stay with me," Rapunzel asked, with an urgency that made him realise he had closed his eyes. Huh. He was dizzy. "I know, I'm sorry, just- I'm gonna free you, okay?"

He blinked, trying to look at her so she would stop sounding so… scared. She was fumbling with the ropes holding his left hand in place. There was the sound of an explosion outside, right as she got rid of the first one, and she threw an indecipherable look at the door.

He wanted… He wanted her to stop looking so sad. He didn't like it when she was sad. Could he do something about it? Well-

"The smolder doesn't work," he mumbled dejectedly. Rapunzel was taking care of his bound legs now, though he didn't remember her freeing his right hand. He moved it slowly, feeling as if the limb wasn't his own, and wondered how much the weird water was still affecting him.

"Weird water?" Rapunzel repeated. He wasn't sure how to not voice all his thoughts aloud, apparently, which he's sure his dad would find amusing.

Since Rapunzel was still looking at him, Eugene took a few seconds to remember her question and simply hummed, head swimming. That seemed to make her even more unhappy, and he could get disliking the water, but he didn't like when Rapunzel was unhappy. "Do you... think the smolder ever, uh... worked?" he asked, trying to distract her.

"I'm sure it did," she answered, in the same gentle tone she used on people she disagreed with.

"It- it never worked on you, though. And it wouldn't have worked on Beetle, or- or- Martin," he pressed. His tongue was heavy in his mouth, and now his feet were free but he really didn't have the energy to try and get up. He didn't want to puke on Rapunzel, too.

She didn't reply. Instead, she looped one of his arms around her neck, and braced her hand against his ribs. He winced, and she apologised quietly, but before he could try to argue that he didn't think he could do it, she made him stand up swiftly, grip tightening around him when his knees inevitably buckled. He closed his eyes tightly, ears ringing painfully and stomach churning, and he was grateful that he could count on Rapunzel to not let him fall on his face.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she kept repeating, adjusting his weight to stop him from sliding down further. "I know it's hard, but I'll get you to safety, I promise, just hang on-"

Eugene could guess that he really didn't look great if she was that desperate to comfort him. To be fair, he didn't feel great either. He could barely follow her words, couldn't stand up on his own, and had to focus all his energy into not being sick as Rapunzel helped him walk. It clearly wasn't his best day.

He tried to regain his footing, so she didn't have to drag him with her, but his legs were shaky and he nearly fell again. He thought Rapunzel was going to toss him over her shoulder and run, which he knew she could do, and he also knew his body wouldn't appreciate as much as usual given his current dizziness, but that was exactly the moment Maximus arrived to the rescue. Or maybe they arrived to Maximus? There were more people around them, more noises and voices too, and Eugene couldn’t follow anything of what was happening. He thought he heard Lance, and felt another hand holding him up, but all he could focus on was Rapunzel being here, and Rapunzel talking to him, and calling his name, his one beacon of light when the pain in his head grew to be too much to bear.

He felt her hand in his, and realised that he had been laid down somewhere. He wanted to reassure her, but couldn’t do much more but feebly squeeze her fingers, hoping she would understand. And then, because he was tired and in pain, and because he knew that, now that she was here, he was going to be okay, Eugene passed out.

------

“You are evil,” Eugene moaned, hiding his face under his pillow while Rapunzel laughed innocently.

"What, I'm trying to help!" she smiled, coming to sit next to him on the bed. He felt the mattress dip under her weight, and took a peek at her, groaning again when he saw how smug she seemed. "I even made flyers and everything!"

She didn't seem to care about the annoyed look he threw her way, instead putting a bunch of papers in his hands. On it, his face, lips pursued and eyebrows raised, with the text asking the people of Corona to come test his “infamous smolder” by themselves. At this moment, Eugene would have preferred to have his old wanted posters thrown in his face - it would be way less embarrassing than… this.

“Come on Eugene, what better way to know for certain than to experiment? You seemed really bummed out about your smolder!”

“I wasn’t in my right mind,” he grumbled. “You can’t hold me accountable for my concussed ramblings!”

Her expression softened at that, and her hand came to caress his cheek, gently trailing up to the bandages still around his wound. Her touch was soft enough to not sting, and he couldn’t keep up his facade of annoyance when it was so obvious she simply wanted to make him laugh.

“I love you, you know?” he breathed, and she had a second to look pleasantly surprised before she leant down and kissed him.

“I love you too, Eugene,” she smiled fondly.

“You’re the only person I care to seduce anyway,” he laughed. “I guess I’ll have to live with the smolder being ineffective.”

“If that helps,” she murmured, climbing fully on the bed to lie down next to him, “I feel pretty seduced by you already.”

“Ah yeah?” he grinned. “Well, I’m pretty seduced by you too, Sunshine. You’re my hero after all,” he said, and though he had intended it as a joke, his tone was too earnest to be mistaken as anything but the truth. He could still see glimpses of guilt in Rapunzel’s expression, when he knew she had done everything in her power to find him as quickly as she could - he’d repeat it as much as she needed to finally see it too.

Rapunzel watched him, before cupping his cheek and bringing their lips together once again. He knew he would need to rest again soon, and that his constant headache would probably spike if he didn’t, but for now, he kissed her back, and it felt like everything was alright again. Because it was, in all the ways that mattered.

She saved him, and they were together - he wouldn’t ask for anything more.

[bevioletskies]

if i keep my heart out of sight

summary: Apollo used to think Klavier was an open book - someone honest, someone uncomplicated, someone who didn’t have anything to hide. But when Klavier asks Apollo to accompany him on a visit to see Kristoph, Apollo finds himself starting to think otherwise.

word count: 4.2k | read on ao3

a/n: For @klapollo-week, day three of seven (prompt: "protection"). All seven of my fics take place in the same continuity! However, each can be read as a stand-alone, with the exception of day seven being a sequel to day five.

This fic takes place at some point in time between Dual Destinies and Spirit of Justice, but doesn’t reference any specific plotlines otherwise. Fic title is from the song If I Keep My Heart Out Of Sight by James Taylor.

“You don’t have to, Apollo. I know I’m probably asking too much of you, so if - ”

“No, i-it’s okay, you just - you surprised me. I’ll, uh, I’ll be there! Only...we’re not going on your bike, are we?”

Klavier blinked. His expression scared Apollo; he’d never seen Klavier so stoic, so serious, not even during the most crucial moments of a trial. Then, Klavier burst into laughter. “Achtung, I ask you to come with me to visit mein Bruder in prison, and that’s what you’re concerned about?”

Huffing, Apollo narrowed his eyes at him. “Actually, I’m more concerned about you calling me ‘Apollo’ a second ago. You feeling okay, Gavin?”

“Obviously I’m feeling just fine, Forehead, as you can plainly see by me wanting to talk about Kristoph for a change,” Klavier drawled, his lazy smile betrayed by the sharp glint in his eyes. “And nein, not my motorcycle. Did you forget I have a car?”

“Apparently,” Apollo said. “You ever mess up the exhaust pipe on that one, too?” Now it was Klavier’s turn to glare. “Kidding, kidding. So, uh...what brought this on? Why do you even wanna see him?”

“Misguided need for closure?” Klavier let out a short, harsh chuckle. “Or maybe I’m just bored.”

Apollo had to look away from Klavier for a moment, the rush of emotions that had crossed his face just then too overwhelming to bear. They were standing in the courtroom, which was long empty now that their latest trial was over. Phoenix and Athena were waiting for Apollo in the defense lobby, while Trucy was back at the agency, eagerly awaiting the outcome. For Klavier, on the other hand, the only things waiting for him were the journalists on the courthouse front steps and the paperwork on his desk at the prosecutor’s office. “And...why do you want me to go with you?” Apollo asked, looking back up.

Klavier shrugged. “We don’t hang out enough,” he replied, grinning cheekily. He then turned and headed for the courtroom doors, lifting a manicured hand to wave him off. “I’ll text you, ja? Auf Wiedersehen, Herr Forehead.”

“Liar,” Apollo muttered, rubbing his wrist where his bracelet had squeezed him.

_____

Another week or so went by before Apollo found himself getting into Klavier’s car, his stomach turning unpleasantly. It was mid-morning on a Saturday, a time in which he was usually at his most relaxed - sleeping in, watching TV, and hanging out with his cat. But now, all he could think about was Klavier’s white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel.

“...Gavin.”

“Ja?” Klavier’s response was too quick, too loud.

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” Apollo asked. “You shouldn't force yourself to do something you don’t wanna do. If he, I dunno, contacted you and called you out or whatever - ”

“He didn’t,” Klavier interrupted swiftly. “And before you ask, nein, I didn’t contact him, either. Just this once, I’d prefer that he didn’t have the upper hand.”

Apollo’s face softened; he nodded. “Good call. Who knows - maybe it’ll work in your favor.”

They pulled into the Central Prison parking lot less than thirty minutes later. Apollo, trembling with anxiety, followed Klavier closely as they made their way through security. Prison, Apollo thought rather stupidly, felt cold, impersonal. At least Klavier radiated warmth, familiarity, though the guards seemed surprised to see him. That was to be expected, Apollo supposed, since it had been nearly two years since Kristoph’s imprisonment, and Klavier had never visited until now.

“Here he is,” one of the guards said gruffly after leading them through a confusing series of corridors. “Go on, then.”

Things were unsettlingly quiet for a moment. Apollo and Klavier stared at the reinforced door before them - Kristoph was no longer behind literal bars - waiting, anticipating, dreading what was to come. The only view they were afforded was a small window of an even smaller room, meaning they would only be able to see Kristoph from the waist up at most, even if he was on the complete opposite side of his cell. His back was to them, hands clasped neatly behind him. Klavier’s breath hitched. Kristoph turned abruptly at the sound.

“Ah.” Kristoph smiled pleasantly. “What an unexpected surprise. Mr. Justice, I didn’t know you still cared.”

“Hardly,” Apollo said through gritted teeth. Already, he felt the hairs on his arms stand on end. “Gav - Klavier asked me to come, so I did.”

“Still taking orders from a Gavin, are you?” Kristoph stepped closer. His face was gaunt, his skin ragged. Even his hair seemed to have lost its shine. “And here, I thought you were working for Wright. Or does he not pay you enough? Honestly, I wouldn’t think he’d be able to pay you at all. He’s very fond of working pro bono, from what I remember. How...charitable of him.”

“Hallo to you too, Kristoph,” Klavier said evenly, stepping in front of Apollo. “If you’re done being an arschgeige, it’s me you’re talking to, not him.”

Kristoph’s eyebrows shot up. “Is that so? I wouldn’t have guessed it, what with you shaking like a leaf.”

Klavier sucked in another breath between his teeth. “Do you really have nothing to say to me? Do you not think of our parents and what they think about you? What everyone thinks about you?”

Kristoph smirked, taking a few measured steps back. “Did they not teach us not to concern ourselves with the opinions of those who don’t matter?”

“So breaking Mama and Papa’s hearts, that doesn’t matter to you?” Klavier snapped. “If I were to bring them here, could you really say that to their faces?” Apollo glanced at him, worried. He’d never heard either Gavin mention their parents before, had always assumed they were gone in some sense. He couldn’t imagine what they were like, what Kristoph and Klavier’s childhood had been like, for them to turn out the way that they did.

“You’re better than that, Klavier,” Kristoph scolded lightly. He seemed to be enjoying himself; it made Apollo’s throat burn with disgust. “Emotional manipulation, hypothetical scenarios...they aren’t becoming of a prosecutor of your caliber.”

“That disappointment you feel? It’s mutual, vertrau mir,” Klavier retorted, letting out an irritable exhale.

“Is that really all you came here to ask me about?” Kristoph paced to the back of his cell, neatly dropping down onto the small cot he'd been given, covered with a threadbare blanket. At the very least, Apollo was satisfied to see how little he had. Phoenix had told him what Kristoph’s first cell was like, how infuriatingly luxurious it was. This was more fitting for a man of his morals. “If I’m broken up about hurting poor Mother and Father’s feelings?”

“Nein, that’s only the beginning,” Klavier said coolly. Apollo shivered, moving away entirely so Klavier could stand directly in front of the little window. “You know, even now, there are still people who think that I’m the arrogant one. The one who so desperately seeks validation, while you don’t have a care in the world. But tell me, Kristoph - if you really care so little about what people think, why are you the one in prison for killing someone who passed you over for a case that would've made you famous?”

Kristoph scowled. “Klavier…”

“And does it bother you, knowing that even before you became a killer, that everyone always preferred me?” Klavier continued, unflinching. “Our parents, our teachers, our family friends...the world at large.”

“Your silly insults are more suitable for a playground than a prison, how depressing,” Kristoph said, quickly regaining his composure. “After all this time, your lack of maturity still disappoints me. Not surprising, though, considering you were worshipped by the masses from a young age. But that worship, it doesn’t quite fill that emptiness, does it?” Klavier went pale.

Apollo let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding. “The hell does that mean?” he demanded, his voice echoing throughout the prison’s hallowed halls.

“All Klavier ever wanted, ever since he was a little boy, was to be loved. How asinine,” Kristoph drawled. “It was our parents’ love of soaps and Austen novels that...inspired him. Made him the romantic he claims to be. Personally, I don’t believe he was ever deprived of love. As he said, our parents adored him, our teachers and classmates thought he was just so charming...but apparently, that was still never enough.”

“Kristoph,” Klavier warned, eyes narrowing. “Halt mal.”

“Did you know, Mr. Justice, that he’s never been in a long-term relationship?” Kristoph’s gaze went to his brother’s reddening face. “For all his talk, all his literal song and dance about love, he’s never had what anyone would call a romantic partner. Just...sex and bad dates.” He cocked his head, looking at Klavier inquisitively. “Is no one good enough for you, Klavier? Is it that you haven’t found anyone yet? Or...is that you have found someone, only they have no intention of ever loving you back?” He neatly folded one leg over the other, smirking. “I’m inclined to believe the latter. I know your tastes, after all.”

“You don’t know me,” Klavier said lowly. His fists were clenched so tightly, he was leaving fingernail indents in his palms. “I don’t think you ever did.”

“That’s more than most people can say,” Kristoph replied. “When was the last time anyone cared enough to get to know you?”

Klavier reeled back like he’d been hit, his eyes wide and suspiciously wet. “I - I - ”

“Alright, enough!” Apollo said sharply, tugging on Klavier’s elbow. It took a few tries before Klavier moved away from the door, his chest heaving with emotion. Apollo cast him a brief, concerned glance - Klavier refused to look back - before stepping in front of him so he could look Kristoph in the eye. “You know what, Mr. Gavin?”

“Tell me,” Kristoph said, smiling devilishly.

“I obviously wasted my time thinking about what I was gonna say to you, if I was gonna say anything to you,” Apollo said, his own hands trembling by his sides. “But I’ve made up my mind. I-I’m not gonna give you the satisfaction of letting you continue to stroke your own ego. Save that for when you’re alone.”

Kristoph chuckled, amused. “I’m sure that sounded wittier in your head, Mr. Justice. Next time, perhaps.”

“Asshole,” Apollo muttered, pulling on Klavier’s arm once more. “C’mon, let’s get out of here before we do something that gets us thrown behind bars, too.”

Klavier was worryingly silent, barely managing to plaster on a polite smile for the security guards who led them out. By the time they returned to Klavier’s car, Apollo expected him to be furious, to be beside himself, to be completely falling apart. Instead, Klavier was smiling, leaning casually against the side of his car like nothing had happened. “Achtung, I’m starving. Where do you want to eat? I’ll pay.”

“I - huh?!” Apollo’s anger was quickly replaced with confusion. “Wait, we’re just gonna...eat? After all that?”

“Maybe today will finally be the day you have a meal with me, ja?” Klavier teased, his grin widening. There was no trace of emotion in his eyes that suggested he was feeling anything less than perfect. “I mean it, Forehead. You choose.”

“Um.” Apollo cleared his throat. “I...I guess I have a place in mind.”

_____

Klavier stared down at his food with more suspicion than Apollo had ever seen anyone have while looking at a bowl of ramen. “...Gavin?”

“This might contain more sodium than I consume in an entire week,” Klavier mused. He then picked up his chopsticks and began to eat. Apollo exchanged glances with Mr. Eldoon, who merely shrugged and returned to his station by his stockpot. Sighing, Apollo started eating, too. He’d given up on the notion of Klavier talking about what had happened, and honestly, he couldn’t blame him. There was a reason Apollo despised Kristoph like no other, even after all this time. The less said, the better.

“It’s good, right?” Apollo said, chuckling awkwardly. He wasn’t sure whether to go with small talk or stifled silence.

“My compliments to the chef,” Klavier said, loud enough so Mr. Eldoon could hear. He seemed unbothered, waving a hand in bare acknowledgement. “Anyway, what are your plans for the rest of the weekend, Herr Forehead?”

“The same thing I do every weekend - sleep, video games, more sleep,” Apollo replied. “How ‘bout you?”

“MIght go for a run tomorrow, it’s been some time,” Klavier said, popping a piece of chashu into his mouth. “But sleep sounds sehr gut, too. I worked more than usual this week, so maybe I should sleep in, get a massage…”

“Sounds...nice.” Apollo was starting to think silence was the better option. He felt seconds away from bursting with a dozen questions he knew he wasn’t going to get answers to. “Hey, are you - ”

“Do you - ” Klavier cut himself off with a soft laugh. “Sorry, you go first.”

“Are you feeling…” Apollo trailed off when he realized Klavier’s eyes were fixed on him intently; there was something in them that almost felt like a warning. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. “Never mind, i-it’s not important. What were you gonna say?”

“Do you…” Klavier went quiet for so long, Apollo turned back to his ramen, intensely aware of how close they were sitting, how uncomfortable they both felt. “...regret coming with me?”

Apollo nearly choked on his noodles in surprise. “Oh - no, no, n-not at all! I mean, it’s not like I wanted to see him again, but...I’d hate to think what would’ve happened if you’d gone by yourself.”

Klavier hummed. “...then let’s not think about it, ja?” Just like that, he was smiling again. This time, it looked off somehow. “Herr Blackquill told me Taka made a nest in your hair the other day. Your forehead makes quite the landing zone, doesn’t it?”

“You shut it or I’m stealing your egg,” Apollo threatened, elbowing him. Klavier laughed, making a point to eat the remaining half of his soft-boiled egg before Apollo could snatch it from his bowl. Hesitating, Apollo set down his chopsticks. “Actually, y’know what? Never mind my ‘never mind’ - are we really not gonna talk about it?”

“Talk about what?” Klavier reached for his tea. “I asked if you regretted coming with me, you said nein. What else is there to say?”

“Oh, I don’t know, everything?” Apollo shot back, trying not to raise his voice. He didn’t want Klavier to think he was angry at him - after all, for once, he really wasn’t. He just wanted something, anything, aside from Klavier’s too-bright eyes and his indifferent smile. “Gavin, he - I - ”

“I think I liked it better when you called me ‘Klavier’,” he commented, taking a long sip.

“Don’t change the subject,” Apollo said, frowning. “Look, I-I’m not saying we have to talk about it now, but are you...okay?”

“I’ll be better once I get that massage,” Klavier said airily, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “I should book it now before I forget. Personal massage therapists can be so finicky, you know? Especially when I want something specific.”

Apollo narrowed his eyes. “I see what you’re doing, Gavin.”

“Making an appointment? Ja, Forehead, very observant of you.” Klavier turned to look at him, then winked. “Don’t worry, you’ll have my full attention again in a moment. I know you’re desperate for it. Just be patient, bitte.”

“You are impossible to talk to,” Apollo grouched, picking up his chopsticks again. “Fine, I give up. I guess I won’t, quote-unquote, ‘get to know you’ after all.”

“Hey.” The sudden bite in Klavier’s voice made Apollo jump. “Don’t do that.”

“I - ” Apollo shrunk in his seat, simultaneously stunned and subdued. “...sorry. Sorry, that crossed a line. It’s just - you’re…”

“I hate it when you sound like him.” Klavier turned back to his own food, pocketing his phone more forcefully than necessary. “It happens more often than you think, you know.”

“I...didn’t realize.” Apollo tried, and failed, to clear the lump in his throat. They ate in silence for the next few minutes, painfully aware of how their legs were pressed together, how they kept brushing against each other’s elbows and shoulders. “Listen, um...I know it might not seem like I’m on your side most of the time, but...if you wanna talk about it, I’m here. No judgement.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Forehead,” Klavier said, though not unkindly. “Anyway, I won’t bother lying to you, I won’t insult your intelligence. I think I do enough of that in court. So...I’d rather not talk about it at all. Why bother?”

“Why bother?” Apollo repeated, confused. “You don’t wanna, I dunno, process your feelings or whatever it is you’re s’posed to do?”

“And then what?” Klavier sounded more bitter than angry now. “Talking about my feelings won’t make them hurt less.”

“I...guess not,” Apollo said slowly. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Right now, it seemed like nothing would bring Klavier any kind of comfort. “...besides, it’d be kinda hypocritical of me to ask someone to open up, huh?”

“I wouldn’t know. I...haven’t had the chance to get to know you, either.” Klavier finished his tea, then wiped his mouth. Another uncomfortable silence passed between them. “After all, it seems like neither of us is particularly forthcoming.”

Apollo shot him a bittersweet smile. “Yeah, that, uh, that about sums it up.”

Klavier then hung his head, almost as if he were ashamed of something, possibly himself. “...sorry, Apollo. I don’t mean to take this out on you, it’s just...I’m not used to this.”

“Visiting your brother?” Apollo guessed.

“Talking about mein Bruder.” Klavier gave Mr. Eldoon a grateful smile when he wordlessly came over to refill his tea. “Or talking to you, whichever one sounds better. Or, you know, worse.”

“Try all of the above?” Apollo suggested, managing to get a short laugh out of Klavier. “Hey, I’m just keeping our options open. And, um...it’s okay, Gavin, you’re fine. Things got...really rough back there. I don’t blame you for being...you know.”

Klavier nodded slowly, his expression inscrutable. Suddenly, he sat up like he’d just remembered something. “Ach, look at me - I still haven’t said danke schön for today!”

“Oh. You’re, uh, welcome?” Apollo turned back to his food and began shovelling noodles into his mouth, his face growing steadily warm; he wasn’t sure how else to respond.

“Wait, I haven’t actually done it yet,” Klavier chuckled, the light in his eyes gradually returning. “Danke schön, Herr Forehead, for coming with me to see Kristoph. For...cutting him off after he said...you know…”

“...that.” Apollo cleared his throat. “Yeah, I know.” They both went silent again, though it wasn’t nearly as stifling this time. Klavier waited patiently while Apollo finished his ramen, humming idly to himself. He seemed to be in better spirits now, though there was still a fog in the air that hadn’t quite lifted.

“I can tell you still have questions,” Klavier observed, right as Apollo was taking his last bite.

“I-I’m not gonna push it!” Apollo protested. “You don’t wanna talk, you don’t have to talk. Simple as that.”

“Pick the easiest one, then, and I’ll answer it. Just so you don’t walk away empty-handed.” Klavier’s smile was pleasant, friendly, as if he’d merely offered to play a game of twenty questions to pass the time instead. Apollo stared at him for a little too long, still unsure of how to figure Klavier out, if he’d ever figured him out.

“Okay. Um…” Dozens of questions seemed to flood Apollo’s mind all at once, none of which seemed “easy”. None of them seemed remotely appropriate to talk about here and now, not while they sat on rickety seats at a noodle stand on a colder-than-usual Saturday afternoon. He supposed there was one question that seemed less invasive in comparison, only he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the answer and all it implied. Apollo sucked in a breath. “Was he right about you, er…‘finding someone’?”

Klavier blinked. “...are you trying to ask me if I’m single?”

“Gavin, I swear to - ”

“Because I’d rather not get into it,” Klavier continued. “Ja, I don’t have anyone. But I do have someone. Someone who means a lot to me, even if...even though they barely give me the time of day. And...that’s all I want you to know.” His voice cracked slightly.

“I...oh.” Apollo was more confused than ever. “Fair enough, I guess.”

“I can’t believe that’s what you went with,” Klavier said, laughing quietly, more to himself than to Apollo. “Of all the things to ask about, achtung. My relationship status, Forehead, really?”

“Apparently.” Apollo finished his tea as well, then sat back with a satisfied sigh. “Well, this has been...awkward.”

Klavier couldn’t help but snort. “You don’t say.” He then softened. “I’m still grateful you’re here all the same. Even though it made you uncomfortable, you stuck around. Danke again, I mean it.”

“You needed someone to look out for you,” Apollo shrugged. “That’s why you asked me, right? Not ‘cos we don’t hang out enough or whatever that bullshit reason was that you gave me, but ‘cos...I-I was there. When it happened. I made it happen.”

Klavier stood, averting his eyes so Apollo couldn’t see his face. “You could’ve said no. To be honest, I was expecting it.”

“I’m sorry you expected it,” Apollo said, his voice barely above a whisper. For some reason, he felt as if he couldn’t speak at his usual boisterous volume. “And I’m not saying, y’know, sign me up again, but...if you ever go back...let me know, okay?”

Klavier merely hummed, then tossed a handful of bills in Mr. Eldoon’s direction before Apollo could even pull out his wallet. He wordlessly started heading across to the street where his car was parked, Apollo trailing after him. “What about you, Forehead?”

“Huh? What about me?” Apollo asked. He was really starting to get mood whiplash, though it definitely wasn’t the first time today or even the first time in the last ten minutes, not by a long shot.

Klavier smirked. “Have you…‘found someone’?”

“Wh-what the hell does that have to do with anything?!” Apollo exclaimed. “And even if I did, I-I wouldn’t tell you!”

“Then let’s keep our secrets, shall we?” Klavier sounded strangely serious all of a sudden; it sent a shiver up Apollo’s spine. “Let me take you home now, ja? I think we’ve had more than enough of...everything.”

“Agreed,” Apollo said, getting back into Klavier’s car.

The drive back to Apollo’s apartment would’ve been completely silent, if not for Klavier’s insistence on blasting the radio at nearly ear-splitting volume. It didn’t leave Apollo much room to be alone with his thoughts, though he supposed at a time like this, he was glad to not have the opportunity. He snuck the occasional glance over at Klavier, who seemed to be back to his usual self - drumming his fingers against the steering wheel, head bobbing along in time with the classic rock they were listening to, lifting a hand every so often to fiddle with his bangs. If Apollo didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought this morning never happened. He found himself wondering, of all the countless number of times he’d been around Klavier before, if he really was as calm, cool, and collected as he seemed to be.

“Have a good weekend, Herr Forehead,” Klavier said once he stopped outside of Apollo’s building.

“You too,” Apollo said, getting out of the car. He hesitated the moment his feet hit the sidewalk; he turned back to look at Klavier. “Hey, Gavin? Good luck with your...someone. There’s no point in me telling you, y’know, that you should think about moving on to someone who actually cares about you, ‘cos…” He swallowed. “...that’s just not how it works. You just - you end up feeling your feelings before you even realize you have feelings. And it sucks. Like, a lot.”

Klavier smiled ruefully. “Eloquent as ever, I see.”

“Gavin - ”

“But I appreciate the sentiment all the same,” Klavier finished, grinning. “Speaking from experience, are you?”

Apollo glared. “Gavin,” he repeated, more bitingly this time. Klavier merely laughed, tossing his head back as he did. His blindingly white smile was even brighter in the sunlight; everything about it seemed familiar to Apollo somehow.

“Ja, ja, I hear you,” Klavier said, still chuckling. “Auf Wiedersehen, Apollo.”

“See you around,” Apollo replied, waving as Klavier pulled away from the curb. He let out a long, desperately-needed exhale, then turned and headed into his building. Their conversation still felt disjointed, unfinished, and he knew he had to be okay with that. He had to, or he was never not going to think about Klavier and his indifferent smile ever again. Right as he reached his door, his phone pinged, informing him that he’d gotten a text message.

maybe we’ll get to know each other someday, ja?

Apollo bit back a smile, then sent a reply before heading inside.

I think I’d actually like that.

_____

a/n: Welcome to my third entry for Klapollo Week 2021! Continuity-wise, this is the first of seven fics, but again, there is no need to read the others to follow each fic on its own. So...this got angsty. Someday, I'd like to write a fuller version of this premise; I feel like Dual Destinies implies that Apollo and Klavier are closer than the way Apollo makes things seem, so I can definitely picture this happening. Also, I've mentioned this before, but I weirdly enjoy writing Kristoph despite him being, you know, Kristoph.

Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed! Likes and reblogs would be much appreciated. Hoping you're all safe and healthy and doing well ❤️

[criminally--reid]

breath play

the spencer fic I've been talking about for weeks lmao

Warnings: dom!spencer, breath play, degredation, being tied up, praise, dirty talk, (this ended up being a lot less intense than I anticipated lmao my b I guess :/ )

Pairing: spencer x fem! reader

Word count: 3.2k (3,203)

○•○•○•○

A sexualsadist serial killer in Wisconsin fulfilling his ‘bdsm’ fantasies by foreplaying with his victims and unfortunately asphyxiating and stabbing them. How fun. 

Reid had been suspiciously uninvolved in this case. Well.. as uninvolved as the most intelligent member of the team could be without ruining the operation. Quick blurbs of information only adding general details to the case; nothing to narrow anything down. No constantly working on the case. When Reid wasn’t needed it’s almost like he wasn’t even there. Oddly distant; his mind was always somewhere else. Something about this case in particular bothered him. It was so unlike the doctor to be so uninterested in a case. Normally, he let the case swallow him whole; engulfing him in his entirety. Mind, body, and soul set on finding the missing pieces and solving the puzzle… but not this one. 

“Something on your mind, Spence?” I ask, sitting down opposite him on the jet; finally able to relax after a long day in the field. 

“Did you know the average person only has sex about two times a week. Things like culture, health, and social status all effect how as well as how often people have sex. But still, just about twice a week on average.” 

“There’s a lot to unpack there, so I’m just gonna say ‘no.’” Spencer chuckles, and I join in. 

“Seriously though. You’ve been so distant lately. Like something about this one in particular has been bothering you.” 

“I mean.. Murder cases aren’t something I often enjoy, so yeah, this whole ordeal has been kind of bothersome.” 

“You know that’s not what I meant, Spence.” 

“It’s just that-” he contemplates for a moment before patting the seat beside him for you to accompany him. You do so, and he leans toward you, so he can whisper. “I really, really hated this case… as you could tell- obviously. I- I’ve been thinking about how the unsub used aspects of foreplay before killing his victims - you know, the tying-up and the asphyxiation stuff - and about the stuff I’ve been kinda interested in.” 

You mull over everything Reid’s just said. It’s not such a longshot surprise to you. I mean with the degradation on the first encounter and the handcuffs the second, you weren’t really taken aback with what he was hinting at. “I’m gonna ask again. What exactly is bothering you, pretty boy?” 

He sighs and closes his eyes; brown knitted together tightly. Whatever he’s about to say is going to come out really fast, and you prepare yourself to catch and process it all. “I’ve been thinking about how I fantasize about choking and degrading and tying up my partner and all that stuff, but with this case - this- this monster using that to inturn kill people - what if that’s me? What if I take things too far? You know my mother’s schizophrenic; what if I’m dangerous?-” 

“Woah, Spence, calm down. There’s nothing wrong with being a li’l’ freaky. Just because someone used things like that to fulfill their murderous fantasies doesn’t make you a bad person. And just because there’s a possibility that you’re carrying schizophrenia, doesn’t automatically make you dangerous; you know that. There's nothing to worry about, Spence. I promise.” You put your hand on his thigh for reassurance. He places his hand a top yours, lightly tapping his fingertips on the back of your hand. 

“Can we try something?” he asks quickly, making and holding eye contact with you for the first time since this conversation started. 

“Doctor Spencer Reid, are you asking to choke me?” I ask fake flabbergasted. “Are you really asking to-” 

“You know what, nevermind. At this point, I’d rather choke myself.” 

“That was a joke, Spencer,” you say rolling your eyes. “But when? Now?” 

“Wow, eager are we?... I was thinking more like when we land and head home for the night. We wouldn’t want to risk the rest of the team waking up to sounds of you being a pathetic mess for me, now would we?” 

“N-No, sir. Of-of course not,” you gulp, taking notice of how his dominant personality is already taking shape before you. 

“Perfect. We land in thirty.” He pats your thigh and turns away from you, returning to the book he was reading prior to. He motions for you to return to your seat across from him, and as you do so, he looks up at you sending a wink your way before he returns to his book indefinitely; allowing the anticipation and excitement to course through your veins for the next thirty minutes. 

The landing comes soon, and the team moves to grab their stuff; eager to get home and relax for the night. You grab your bag and hurry off the plane, dragging along behind emily. 

“What were you and Reid talking about?” Prentiss turns around suddenly, taking you by surprise. 

“I, un, I thought you all were asleep..” 

“Eh, I was in limbo I guess; you know. I just heard him rambling and hoped he was okay.” 

“Oh yeah. He’s fine. Just uh- just something in the book he’s reading.” 

“That’s good,” she smiles and continues off the plane. 

You turn around when you feel a hand drag down the curve of your ass. You glare at Reid and mouth ‘you fucker’ to which he chuckles and holds up his hands in surrender. 

“Hey, y/n/,” Derek says walking over to your desk as you put your files away and zip up your go-bag. “Garcia, Emily, and I are goin’ out tonight. You wanna come?”

“I’d love to.. But I’m exhausted. Maybe next time?” 

“Yeah forsure,” morgan replies before looking at Spencer, silently asking if he’d like to join them. 

“Yeah I’m gonna have to pass, too. I think I’m gonna memorize a book instead.”  

“Whatever, boy genius,” Morgan replies with a laugh. “We’ll be missing you guys.” He fake frowns before heading out with Emily and Garcia. 

“Wait for me!” JJ calls in a sing-song voice as she rushes to catch up with the rest of the group, slinging her arm around Garcia’s shoulders. “To the bar!” she exclaims and they all laugh before finally leaving the office.  

The clicking of a pen catches your attention and becomes even more prominent in your senses the closer it gets to your desk. You look up from your desk to see said pen held in none other than Spencer’s very attractive, fidgety hands. 

“So,” he drags out, tossing the pen onto your desk with a light clank. 

“Is there something you need, Doctor Reid?” you pry, looking at him innocently through your lashes from your seat at your desk. 

“You.” 

“Well,” you begin, standing up out of your chair to stretch. “Lucky for you I just declined the amazing offer to go out, all so I could spend tonight with you.” 

“Mhmm.. Lucky me,” Spencer replies lowly and looks you up and down, drinking you in. Absorbing your beauty. Somehow after two long days of working in the field, you managed to be drop dead gorgeous. Absolute perfection in his eyes. 

“Your place or my place?” you ask, maneuvering from behind your desk to in front of it. 

Spencer looks at his watch. “It’s only.. Ten thirty. I’d say we have time for both.” 

“My house it is,” you chuckle and turn around, earning a firm slap on the ass from Spencer. A shockwave of pleasure runs straight to your center, and you gasp. Closing up your currently case file, you turn back around and your eyes lock with Spencer, who’s smiling back at you innocently. 

You throw on your jacket and toss your go-bag over your shoulder. Spencer laces his fingers with yours as you walk out of the building and to your cars. You feel the excitement swell inside your belly. Racing back to your house to let none other than your colleague ravage you like a wild animal. Desire and lust driven, taking your clothes off followed by his; hands grazing up and down your sides, raising chill bumps in their wake. You can feel it now. His touch. The wetness pooling beneath you, soaking your underwear through. The arousal bumps already beginning to slowly creep down your arms and up over your chest. There was no way in hell you could get home fast enough. 

You finally arrive at the parking garage that accompanies your apartment building; Reid quick in tow, parking right beside you. He clambers out of his car before you get the chance, and he comes to meet you at your car door. The two of you race up tp your apartment, eager to rip each other’s clothes off. 

The door shuts, and it's game over. Spencer's hands travel to the bottom of your shirt, peeling it up over your head and tossing it on the floor. Your back meets the cool surface of the door, goosebumps rippling down your back. Reid's lips attach to yours as his fingertips dance around the bumpy terrain of your back. Your hands travel up and into his hair, tugging ever so slightly making him groan. He fights for dominance over the kiss and you allow him in. As his tongue dances with yours, savoring your taste, his hands soon find solace at the waistband of your pants as he unbuttons them and drops them to the floor with a light thud; exposing your already-soaked panties. 

Spencer's lips roam from their start of your lips to your jaw and down your neck. You catch your breath as he unbuttons your blouse and pushes it off your shoulders and down your arms; dipping his supple lips further into the valley of your breasts. 

A shaky breath escapes your plump lips as he draws your lips nipple into his mouth; excitement flowing to the now erect bud as he switches to the other one, doing the same. He releases your right nipple and comes back up to meet your eyes. His lust and hunger filled expression softens to one of passion. You move your trembling fingers to the too button on his lavender button-up as his lips meet yours once again. 

Soon, all his clothes accompany yours in disarray over the floor, and the two of you are waltzing over to the bed; you landing on it softly with a light thud. 

"Look at you," he says slowly from his position at the foot of the bed; standing, glistening in his pre-sex glory before you. "All laid out on display for me." You subconsciously pull your thighs closer together, trying to conceal your wetness. Slowly, he begins his crawl onto the bed, hovering over you and lowering his lips to your ear. "Don't hide from me." 

Retracting his face, your reach up and gently trail your fingertips over his cheek, drinking all his features of perfection."Spencer." The delicate sound passed through your soft lips as Spencer swiftly moves to encompass them with his. Gnawing on your bottom lip gently with his skillful teeth before pulling away and whispering, "It's Dr. Reid." 

He begins his travels back down to your area, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses in his wake. He looks up at you through his eyelashes as he pushes your thighs apart; a string of your arousal stretching between the two. Collecting it his forefinger, then lifting it to his mouth, he wraps his lips around the digit relishing in the taste of you before delving into your core. 

You buck your hips, aching for more contact; more friction. Spencer's hands wrap up and around your thighs, holding you to the point where you can't move. 

"Doctor Reid.. please." The sound tumbles quickly from your mouth before you even know what you're asking for. Your head falls to the pillow and your mouth gaped in ecstasy. Your hands fly from their positions at their sides and tangle in Reid's hair, desperately trying to pull him just a little closer to your center. 

Reid groans as you pull at his roots, sending shockwaves of pleasure straight to the depths of you. So close to the edge already, just from Spencer using his tongue. Almost falling over the edge… 

But then he pulls away. 

"Mnnguh, Spencer," you draw out, the pout apparent in your voice. 

"No touching, princess." His face glistens with your slick, and you quiver at the sight momentarily before he collects all your juices onto the back of his hand, making eye contact the entire time.he licks it off; savoring every last drop of your sweetness. 

He clambers out of the bed leaving you frustrated and aching for that release that you so close to seconds ago. You watch as he stands facing away from you - his delicious back on display - as he scans the room. After a moment of deep contemplation, he goes over to your bottom dresser drawer and pulled out a long piece of rope. 

You didn't appreciate how he knew where your stuff was. However, you couldn't blame him. You were profilers after all, and he probably knew more things about you than you knew yourself. 

Spencer smirks at you on his way back over to the bed. You follow him with your eyes as he takes each of your wrists and ties them together and to the headboard. "What's your word?" 

"M-my word?" you stumble over the question as your met face to face with Dr. Reid once again. 

"Your uh safeword. Whenever anything's too much, just say it, and I'll stop." 

Knowing what Spencer was capable of, you weren't sure you'd ever want him to stop. Nonetheless, you pick a word. "Purple." More specifically, the lavender purple button up that Spencer wears. The color that - no matter where you see it - you associate with him. 

"Purple it is," reid replies cheekily, once more descending to your dripping core. 

You writhe beneath him in pleasure and his skillful tongue and fingers bring you to your second orgasm. "D-doctor Reid, ple-please." 

"Please what? Use your words, y/n." 

"God- fuck! Reid, fuck me please. I n-need you-" 

"Look at you," he says as his eyes drink in the sight before him: his co-worker, needy and begging beneath him. "Such a pretty slut. Begging to be fucked by her co-worker. Do you really want me to fuck you y/n? You want my cock deep inside your pretty pussy?" 

You feverishly nod your head, but the answer isn't enough for Spencer. "Say it," he seethes by your ear through gritted teeth with his hand wrapped tightly around your throat, slowing your breath intake. 

"I.. want your cock.. insi..de me, D-doctor R-reid," you struggle to form the plea. 

His hand still around your neck; fingers lightly pressing onto your airways, but now at arms length as he uses his other to trace your folds with the tip of his member.  He slips into you easily, and you involuntarily close your eyes; the pleasure consuming you from the inside out. His thrusts agonizingly slow as he relishes in the feeling of your tight walls wrapped around him. 

"Spencer-" 

"What's my name?" 

"Dr. Reid, please go.. faster. God please- fuck!" 

"Gah, such a needy whore, hm. Taking my cock so well. I bet this is what you were thinking about all day. Isn't it?" He speeds up his pace tenfold, rendering you speechless; reaching the deepest parts of you, almost tossing you over the edge once more. "Mmh, gonna cum for me? Don't hold back, baby. Let go for me." 

And on cue, you release around him, your juices seeping down your thighs and dampening the bedsheets beneath the two of you. 

His pace never slowing down, and his grip on your throat doesn't ease up any either. Your air supply is running low, but you don't care. The sight before you is enough to send you barreling into the abyss of euphoric pleasure. Spencer above you, his sweat-coated torso as arms length and his features contorted in pleasure as he relentlessly pounds into you. 

You admire the god holding himself armslength away from you. The sweat glazing over his torso and dripping fro his forehead. His eyes squinted and mouth agape in pleasure. You clench around him once.more as your fourth orgasm threatens to erupt.

"God fuck." His disgruntled voice coming in as music to your ears. "So fucking tight. You- you gonna cum again, huh? Dirty slut. Cum for me, baby." 

Your forth orgasm rushes over you like a tsunami. Strangled obscenities, moans and groans escape your mouth. You can't take any more. His grip on your throat has barely let up any since he started. And your orgasm count was insane. No one had ever gotten you over four times. The pleasure was more than intense, and you weren't sure how much longer you could last. 

"...purple…" you whisper as your vision goes spotty. 

A look of worry replaces Spencer's previous pleasure-apparent expression. He quickly removes his hand from your throat and pulls out of you. 

"Shit.. shit. Shitshitshit! A-are you okay? Did I hurt you? Fuck. I'm so sorry. Really, I never meant to-" Spencer nervously rambles on as you take a much needed deep, refreshing breath. 

"I know. Spencer, shut up. It's okay. Just please keep going." 

"Y-you sure?" 

You nod feverishly urging him to continue. He re-enters you slowly, filling you all the way up. You arch into him, meeting his agonizingly slow thrusts. "Mmh.. faster, Doctor Reid, please!" 

His pace returns to as it was before. The squelching sound and skin slapping against skin echos through the room once more. One hand white-knuckles the sheets while the other one reaches for Spencer's hand at your side. Grabbing his wrist, you bring his hand back up to your throat, wanting so desperately for him to choke you again. He makes eye contact with you - as if asking permission - as you place his lanky fingers around your neck. Swallowing hard, he applies pressure and your mouth falls open in a lazy smile. 

Your fifth orgasm creeps up on you quickly, but so is Spencer's. "I'm.. so fu- so fucking close," you let out raspily. 

"Me too," he replies, dropping his head. His free hand maneuvers down to run quick circles on your clit, throwing you into convulsions as your fifth orgasm hits you like a truck. 

A few more pumps, and Spencer pulls out of you, cumming on your stomach, moaning your name and mixed profanities. He finally brings his head back up to look at you and undoes your restraints, freeing your wrists. A weary smile accompanies his fucked-out expression. He searches around in the floor, finding something to clean you off with before climbing back into the bed and pulling you up snug with him. 

"That's what I was afraid of you know," he says barely above a whisper. "Hurting you." 

"You didn't hurt me, Spence. I just needed to breathe," you reply with a slight laugh, then placing a kiss to his hand that's draped over.you. 

"You staying?" You ask after a bit of silence. 

"You're a fool if you think I'm going anywhere." He pulls the blankets up over the two of you and pulls you in even tighter; drifting to sleep in no time. 

[set-phasers-to-whump]

normally

prompt: sick

whumpee: shawn spencer

fandom: psych

hi! welcome to my third psych fic! i am going to be honest i am super happy with the way this turned out! i feel like i’m really starting to Get the characters and i hope that it shows in this fic! (set mid-s4, before shules get together and after woody is introduced).

Shawn feels horrible. Normally, this would be cause for loudly complaining about his misery to anyone that will listen and pretending like he’s actively dying so that people will do things for him because he’s soooo sick. Normally. But unfortunately, he really has to work today. 

It’s his fault, kind of. Really, though, it’s the window company’s fault - anyone who makes glass fragile enough to be shattered by one single blast from a t-shirt cannon has to be held to some degree of responsibility. But it had been him who’d fired the cannon and caused him and Gus to use up nearly all of Psych’s current funds to repair it. So. He needs to work today. 

And it’s not like this case is lame and boring - it’s interesting! He wants to work it, really, honestly. It’s just, he’d rather not work it today. But he figures there aren’t really a lot of other options, so he gets on his bike and rides to the police station, somehow arriving unhurt despite the fact that he’d barely been able to focus on the road. 

He feels kind of like his helmet is trying to kill him the whole way there, and when he finally arrives and parks and pulls it off, his hair is plastered to his forehead with sweat. Great. 

In the parking lot, Shawn brushes his fingers halfheartedly through his damp hair, trying to fix it up without a mirror. It probably still looks awful, and he can’t stand the thought, but he’s so tired and it’s hard work moving his hands so much, so there’s not much he can do. He just hopes no one notices. 

“Nice hair, Spencer.”

He’s too tired to give Lassie a witty reply. He settles for a glare that feels lukewarm at best and trudges to the Chief’s office without bothering to look around or say good morning to Jules or anything. 

“Shawn, wait up!”

Shawn stops, and Gus hurries up to walk next to him. “Morning, Gus,” Shawn says, and ouch, that hurts. Just wonderful. He’s hot and sweaty and weak and he can’t talk without feeling like he’s swallowed glass. 

“You alright? You’re acting weird.”

Leave it to Gus to cut right to the chase. “I’m fine, Gus,” he says, speaking quietly (which pains him a little, in his heart (and in his throat)). 

“You know that’s a lie.”

“Tell you later,” he decides, and opens the Chief’s door. 

“Mr. Spencer, Mr. Guster. Good morning,” she says, looking up from her computer. 

“We heard there was another body,” Gus announces, and the Chief nods. 

“Unfortunately, yes. She was found early this morning by some hikers, in the same area where we found our other victim. Similar wounds, similar appearance. We may be dealing with a serial killer.”

Ordinarily, this would be a statement that is met with some kind of reaction, but Shawn finds he doesn’t particularly have it in him to react at all.  

“Really?” Gus asks for the both of them, equal parts concerned and interested. 

“We can’t be sure yet, but it is a possibility. I’d like you two to head down to the morgue and see if you can get a reading on the body.”

“We’re on it,” says Gus, and Shawn nods, which is a bad idea. His head spins, and then the room spins, and when everything stops spinning, he’s left with a horrible pounding in his head. 

“Mr. Spencer?”

Shawn looks around and realizes that Gus is gone. The Chief is looking at him funny, almost…worried, and he can’t have that right now, so he gives her a little salute and hurries out the door. 

Shawn makes his way to the morgue, but is stopped when he passes the men’s bathroom. 

“Psst! Shawn,” comes Gus’ voice, and the door cracks open. Shawn pushes his way in, and is immediately cornered by Gus. 

“Tell me what’s going on right now,” he demands, and Shawn can tell he’s trying to sound threatening. It’s not working, but he tells Gus anyway. 

“I’m just a little sick,” he explains quietly. 

“And you’re here? Spreading your germs around?” Gus asks, backing away from him and raising an arm to cover his mouth and nose. 

“I’m not contagious, Gus.”

“Do you actually know that, or are you just trying to make me feel better about being possibly infected?”

Shawn shrugs, and Gus sighs, lowering his arm. “Why are you here, Shawn?”

“Come on, man, you know we need the money.”

Gus can’t argue with that. “Fine,” he relents. “But you better have some medicine later and get some sleep and plenty of fluids and -”

“I will,” says Shawn, and he knows he doesn’t sound very convincing. Gus raises his eyebrows at him. 

“Sure you will. At least splash some water on your face, then. You look horrible, and you’re about to be in a room with two detectives.”

Oh. Right. Shawn turns on the faucet and splashes some cold water onto his face. It actually feels kind of nice, and he feels, briefly, a little bit better as he dries himself off with a scratchy brown paper towel. 

“Let’s go see a body,” he says, throwing the towel in the trash. 

The fairly short walk to the morgue might as well take hours. That’s what it feels like to Shawn, anyway. Every step feels like a monumental task and he’s so tired and he would really just like to sleep but he’s currently walking, so that’s not an option. Maybe he shouldn’t have come today. Maybe he should have asked Gus to do this without him. Maybe he should have told the Chief. But maybe she wouldn’t have believed him, or cared. No. No, he needs to be here. He’s just…

Here. Finally, they’ve arrived at the morgue. If Gus is exhausted by their months-long trek, he doesn’t show it. In fact, he’s holding the door open for Shawn and saying something to whoever is on the other side, and Shawn gets the feeling that Gus has been waiting for him. 

He hurries along as quickly as he can (which is painfully slow) and steps into the wonderfully cool air of the morgue. 

“Shawn! Gus! Great to see you,” Woody calls, from where he’s standing beside the body of a young woman lying on his table. Jules and Lassie stand on either side of him, and they both look up as Shawn and Gus walk in. 

“Hi, guys,” Jules greets, and Lassie manages a small nod. 

“Hey, Jules. Lassie,” replies Gus, and Shawn gives them a smile that hopefully doesn’t look as fake and as pained as it feels. 

“Come closer, come closer,” Woody says, and he seems extremely excited, so Shawn and Gus both step in, but before Woody can tell them what it is that’s got him so excited, Shawn, well... 

Shawn’s used to bodies. He’s not squeamish about being around them. He’s not Gus. But as he steps a bit closer to the dead girl on the table and breathes in the smell of death, he’s suddenly trying to stop himself from gagging, but he must not be doing a very good job of it because he hears Lassie say, “I thought Guster was the squeamish one,” and ohh, he feels really bad, and had it always been so hot in here? 

“Are you okay, Shawn?” asks Jules. 

“Uhh -” Shawn starts, then cuts himself off, shutting his mouth firmly. He feels so sick and hot and spinny and bad and he would really like to sit down. 

So he does. Hard. The floor is cool beneath him, and he lies down and imagines sinking right through it. Right through it and ending up somewhere soft and comfortable where nothing is the matter…

There are hands on his face and they are way too warm. He reaches up to push them off and catches a snippet of conversation. 

“He’s burning up.”

“He told me…”

“…didn’t say anything…”

“Of course. Why…”

“Call someone?”

“…necessary?”

“Uh, guys?” Shawn asks, in a moment of complete clarity. He opens his eyes and looks up at the faces of Lassie, Gus, Jules, and Woody. “I’m on the floor.”

“You were the one that just laid right down on it,” says Lassie. 

“Oh. Why?”

“Because you’re sick, Shawn. And you didn’t tell us?”

“I told Gus?”

“Who kept that little revelation to himself.”

“He said he was fine! ‘Just a little sick,’ were the exact words he used.”

“Maybe…I bent the truth,” Shawn admits, letting his eyes slip closed again. He’s so hot…everything feels bad. He wants to fall asleep for about a thousand years. Yeah. A thousand years should be enough for him to wake up feeling somewhat okay again. 

“Don’t you go falling asleep on us, Shawn,” comes Gus’ voice, and then there is a sharp tap on his face. He opens his eyes and scowls. It must not be very effective, though, because Jules giggles, then cuts herself off. 

“Come on, let's get you up,” says Lassie, long-suffering. He grabs one of Shawn’s hands, and Woody takes the other, and suddenly Shawn’s on his feet and more dizzy than he has ever been in his life. 

“Don’t you dare throw up on me, Spencer,” Lassie says, and he sounds so threatening that Shawn has no choice but to comply. 

The group is at least nice enough to give him a few minutes to adjust to being on his feet before they make him move. When they finally do, his arms get draped around Gus and Lassie’s shoulders, and their combined body heat is the most uncomfortable thing in the world, but he knows without a doubt that if they weren’t there he’d collapse, so he doesn’t try to pull away, despite the fact that he’s pretty sure he’s melting. 

The walk out of the morgue feels even longer than the walk to it had felt. Eventually, though, they make it to the Chief’s office. 

She looks up from her work in mild surprise, which quickly turns to concern when her eyes land on Shawn. He tries for an upbeat smile and a “hey, Chief,” that comes out as more of a groan. 

“Spencer’s sick,” explains Lassie. 

“I can see that. Why is he here?”

Shawn twists to his right to look at Gus, who he knows will explain for him. 

“We really need this case,” Gus explains. “Shawn spent all our money fixing the Psych window. Again.”

“Not my fault,” Shawn mutters. 

“You know it was.”

“Gentlemen,” Chief Vick interrupts, “Shawn. You are allowed to take a sick day, you know. This case can go without you for one day.”

“It can?”

“Yes,” Lassie sounds exasperated. “Surprisingly, this department did manage to solve cases before you arrived.”

“Go home, Shawn,” Jules translates. “You can’t work like this, anyway.”

She has a point. Shawn can’t even recall what had happened in the morgue, what they’d talked about, what the body had looked like, which is horribly weird and downright disconcerting because he’d normally never forget those things. But everything is so foggy right now, and he’s so tired, and he wants to sit down and he wants to sleep and -

He’s lost the plot of the conversation again. 

“…can take him home. He better not…”

“…company car, we know.”

“…not contagious…”

“We don’t know that!”

“…not helping, Guster…”

“Shawn?”

“Hmm?” He opens his eyes (he doesn’t remember closing them, which, again. Weird). 

“I’m taking you to your dad’s.”

“Gussss,” Shawn whines, as Gus begins leading him out of the Chief’s office. He doesn’t want to go to his dad’s. 

“You’re going, and that’s that,” Gus says, definitively, and they’re in the car now? Shawn definitely doesn’t remember getting here. “You need someone to watch you, and I have another job to get to, remember?”

Shawn senses that he’s not going to get anywhere arguing right now. “Fine,” he agrees. There are worse things than going to his dad’s place, anyway, if he’s being honest. “I’ll go.”

“You know that’s right.”

aaaaaa thanks so much for reading this!!!!! i hope you liked it, love you all <3

[woolieshubris]

OK SO IM GOING TO WRITE SOME BACKSTORY THEN CLICK THE CUT TO SEE THE ORIGINAL ARTICLE WITH NO EDITING.

OK SO BASICALLY. At this point in the series, (season 1 had been out and season 2 kept getting hints dropped) every main love square ship had gotten their "scene", except for marichat. Marichat, argueably, was the (and still is) most popular ship on the show. Suddenly a still frame (or concept art?) was released of marinette and chat sitting on her balcony together looking out at the stars. This was quickly dubbed the "balcony scene" and many many many ficwriters quickly made fics of the scene, people made art for it, and people were overall, generally super f/cking hyped for it. Then, glaciator dropped, and reviews were... mixed to say the least. So here, presented in its full, unedited glory, was my hot 2016 take.

enjoy.

Yes. I will be talking about THIS episode. The episode so anticipated by shippers everywhere. The episode that was supposed to finally give marichat shippers a chance, and we ended up with this.

I hate this episode, for many many reasons, but do not worry. The balcony scene isn't one of them.

Here is my summary, (which is very long, so if you would rather just rewatch the episode feel free to do so)

The episode starts out, with chat asking lady out. Nothing out of the ordinary. She says no, but chat takes it as a maybe. (Which is already really stupid, but I'll let it slide)

After they wrap up the escapade, Mari goes to Andre the sweetheart ice cream man, and becomes disappointed when Adrian says he can't go. (Which is not his fault, so I'm letting this slide as well)

Mari feels like a third wheel and declines Andres ice cream because she's heartbroken? (You can get ice cream any day? And it wasn't Adrian's choice either, she should know this by now?)

Andres feelings are hurt.

Cut to chat, who is waiting for ladybug, and lady isn't showing.

Cut to hawkmoth who akumatizes Andre, and then cut to mari, who feels bad about the who ordeal.

Chat blows out candles angstily (even though lady clearly said no, AND thought he was joking) and decides that lady doesn't love him.

Mari is sad about Adrian and goes out to her balcony, balcony scene happens and chat brings Mari to his date he had planned.

Mari is surprised that chat hadn't been joking this entire time (ehh it makes enough sense) and now she feels double as bad.

Andre attacks.

Chat leaps into action and ladybug comes right after. Chat is angsty, and ladybug doesn't show any kind of remorse (what?)

She says sorry, but with no meaning. (maybe bad voice acting, so I'll let this one slide as well) chat is still mad. They soon make the discovery that he doesn't hurt couples, so lady asks if they could pretend to be a couple and chat says no. (Which makes sense) then lady like 1 minute later asks the same thing and chat says yes. (What why would he say yes? ) And they pretend to be a couple but it doesn't do anything to help them?

It helps them escape but they could have done that without pretending to be a couple? Anyways, they save the day and then lady comes to go see chats surprise. He offers her a rose, and lady says she only wants to be friends.

(Chat should have still been mad at her, since she never even said sorry properly, I mean I know I would have,) and chat smiles and says that's fine, then he blasts off.

We follow chat to his room and he's smiling in his bed. Plagg tells him it's ok to be heartbroken, and that a little cheese can help, but Adrian says he isn't heartbroken, and that he's glad she sees him as a friend.

Oof that summary was longer than expected, but it was hopefully shorter than the episode.

Ok, so now that we are all refreshed, I will now list m problems with the episode, in order to make it easier to fix.

First problem, Marinette is heartbroken over the ice cream.

We can easily fix this by making it a special day, like maybe it's a blue moon that night, and Mari wanted to see it with Adrien. It could be the same for Chat with Ladybug, they wanted to see the blue moon together. He takes the, "maybe, I have plans" as a, "sure I'll make it a plan" because he really really wants it to happen, maybe even have plagg mention it, say something along the lines of, "She said she had plans," and Adrien says, "She said maybe!" (I know they already say this, but it isn't portrayed very well in my opinion.

Problem two, Ladybug never says sorry, and chat doesn't care.

Honestly, throughout the entire episode, I was waiting for ladybug to give chat a hug and just say sorry properly. Throughout most of the episode, chat looks on the brink of tears, and lady acts like she can't see it, and chat forgives her almost instantly. It would have been much more interesting to see a chat begrudgingly doing as he's told, just to save Paris, and go home.

Problem 3, Chat isn't heartbroken.

As stated in the show, we don't ever see the sensitive side of chat noir, and the show seems to want to avoid the subject. Chat got friendzoned. He says he's happy to be lady's friend, but he always was, from the start. All of this buildup, only for it to be knocked down in a single episode. Adrien should have been devistated, but then again, this is one of those "reset" type of shows, where everything must resolve before the credits roll, and it becomes very obvious with the awkward transition. You can tell that they were planning to have him heartbroken in bed, mad at ladybug, but someone said, "kids don't want meaningful character exploration, they want happy endings!"

Ok, so now I write my script doctored version of this episode. Warning, it's pretty long.

Ladybug and chat are talking it up as they help the people get off the bus.

"So, you heard about the blue moon tonight chat noir?" Lady asks.

"Yeah, when there is a full moon twice in a month? It's very rare!" Chat says, explaining to all the kids what a blue moon is. "Well, m'lady, can you visit me tonight? You know, to see it together?" Lady shakes her head.

"I have plans," lady thinks it over for a bit however, "but maybe I can come." Chat looks at the time on his baton, and realizes he has to go back home, his piano practice is almost over.

"Gotta go, see you later ladybug!" He says, as he runs off. Lady goes home and realizes that's she's almost late to go meet her friends. She runs out the door and we cut to Adrien, who is texting Nino.

"Sorry nino, father said I can't come" he's talking as he's texting. Plagg flies by and says, "you didn't even ask your dad, how do you know he'd say no?"

Adrien responds, "I have plans with ladybug remember?"

Plagg rolls his eyes. "She said that she had plans."

Adrien looks at plagg and says, "she said maybe."

We cut away from Adrien and we now see a heartbroken Mari.

"It's the blue moon, the most magical night of all, and we were going to eat Andre's ice cream, the most magical ice cream in Paris!" Mari sighs sadly as she sits down on a bench. Nino shows her the text and says, "It's never adrien's fault, so don't blaim him for not being able to show."

"I know, I know." Mari stands up and they all start looking for the ice cream cart.

Cut to chat, who's has just finished setting up the date.

"I really hope she comes." Chat says this with certainty, showing his trust in ladybug. Without having to OUTRIGHT SAY IT. (cough cough episode 12 cough cough)

Cut back to mari, who is exhausted from the chase to find the cart, and salty about Adrien. She sees alya and nino holding hands as they get their ice cream, and looks at the ground while she sits on the bench, not wanting to see it. "We can never be like them" She says, salty. Andre notices this and gives her the ice cream.

"Perfect, just like your love!" Andre says, with a smile. Mari's twisted salty head decides that she doesn't love him, because she and adrien will never be like alya and nino, so when Andre is passing the icecream to Mari, she doesn't grab it, and it falls to the ground.

"I don't love anyone." Mari says, as she stares at the fallen ice cream. Under her breath Mari says, "because no body loves me." Mari looks up at Andre who looks very sad. She realizes what happened and runs to her house. Cut to chat, who is doing the candle thing he did before because that was a really good and powerful scene and I don't want to change it. Start balcony scene, and everything is the same up until the "reveal" of the surprise to ladybug. This time, she hugs him, and you see chats eyes tearing up as she friendzones him. He lets go of the hug prematurely, and smiles, putting the rose in lady's hair. He goes back home and no more cuts to chat or Adrien so we can let the viewers draw their own conclusions. Everything is the same up until when Adrien gets the ice cream. This time, Adrien looks a little happy/sad when Andre prepares him the ladybug ice cream. Happy because he knows he still loves ladybug, but also sad because he knows she will never love him in the same way.

I'm sorry for making you read that entire thing. If you made it through, please, tell me below, which version you like more, and I really want to see your criticism of both. I'd love to have a conversation about it.

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

The Night the World Didn’t End

This fic was written for @bingokisses - the prompt was “Snuggling” but I got an attack of the sads and the soft angsts.

Ten vignettes looking at what everyone did the night after the Apocalypse.

You can also read on AO3, under my new secondary Pseud: Lady of Prompts.

--

The world hasn’t ended. Or it did, but not quite.

Saturday night, and everything is…thin. Uncertain. As if the universe might realize what had happened and change its mind. All around the world, people feel it, the hesitation, the uncertainty. Humanity can’t quite comprehend what it is, but it’s undeniable.

On a bus rolling slowly towards London, an angel takes a demon’s hand. No words are spoken, but a few kilometers later, the demon’s head falls onto the angel’s shoulder.

And a young boy sits on his bed in Tadfield and worries.

--

At Jasmine Cottage, a battered car rolls to a hesitant stop.

“Well,” Newt begins slowly. “This is it. It was…well, it really wasn’t nice at all. Parts of it were good.”

Anathema says nothing, her eyes still on the charred-black book in her lap.

“You’re not…not planning to live in my passenger seat, are you?” He asks with an awkward smile. It probably isn’t the right time for a joke, but Newt never really notices these things until too late. “Don’t think there’s, you know, space. I put my, uh, my groceries there and…”

Definitely not the time for a joke.

“Do you…” Anathema slowly looks up from the book. Her eyes land on Newt, but her mind is worlds away. “Do you want…to come in?”

He swallows, desperately wishing for a reason to say no, because saying yes is too terrifying. But a good terrifying. “Why?” he finally manages.

“I’m…I’ve never really…decided anything for myself before.” She turns the pages of the book, looking for one that doesn’t crumble to ash. “I don’t know what I want, or…or where I’m supposed to go. But I think…I think…” She looks up again, and this time her eyes hold Newt’s like an official Witchfinder pin. “I think I’d like for you to come in. If…you know…”

He gulps, at a loss for what to say. So he takes her hand.

It makes getting out of the car awkward, but they manage.

--

On the other side of Tadfield, Pepper drops her boots on the porch and heads to her room. She’s never felt this exhausted in her life, and she can’t quite remember why. The whole day is a blur, with some pieces missing - and others in stark, terrifying focus.

When she opens her bedroom door, she finds a mess – and not the mess she’d left this morning. Her comic books are spilled all over, pages wrinkled and ripped out as if struck by a tornado, and her sister sits in the middle of it all.

“I didn’t do it! It was an accident!” She’s been bracing for the argument, but her eyes aren’t defiant, just terrified and full of tears.

Pepper looks around the room. The two sisters have fought every day this summer, name-calling and arguments turning to stolen toys and pulled hair and screams for their mother. They don’t play anymore, or talk, or anything else. The five-year age difference felt insurmountable. 

But tonight...Pepper can’t seem to muster her anger. None of it feels important. She simply pushes the torn comics off her bed and crawls under the duvet.

“Are…are you mad?”

“Too tired.” Tired isn’t the word for it, but Pepper is eleven. She knows a lot of terms, but she doesn’t know how to describe the complete, draining emotional fatigue that comes from meeting a witch, fighting with your best friend, and stopping an apocalypse all between lunch and bedtime. She doesn’t have the energy for another emotion. “We can fight tomorrow. Promise.”

“Alright.” Her sister rests her head on the side of the bed. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“I miss you.”

Pepper shuts her eyes, not even sure what to say to that. “Just go to bed. It’s way too late for you.”

“Can I sleep with you?”

“No! What’s wrong with your room?”

“It’s too scary.”

“How can it be scary? It’s your room…” Pepper opens her eyes and meets the tear-filled gaze of her baby sister.

They don’t get along. They have nothing in common. Pepper doesn’t even remember what it feels like to be five-and-a-half. But tonight, she feels very young, and alone, and a little frightened, and perhaps that’s close enough.

“You know what? Fine.” She moves over and folds back the duvet. “Just don’t kick.”

--

The bus rumbles down the road towards London, passing a slow-moving scooter. The scooter has rolled along for hours, and as it crests another hill the speedometer creeps towards 10 mph.

“Can ye not be more careful, ye daft woman?” Shadwell’s arms are wrapped around her waist, holding tight, as if he is afraid to fall.

He isn’t afraid, or at least, not of falling. Parts of the strange day keep drifting back across his mind. He wishes he had a strong cup of tea. He wishes he had something a good deal stronger.

But one thought keeps coming to the fore. He’s spent nearly the whole of his adult life hunting witches, and now that he’s found one, he’s not letting her go.

He hasn’t yet worked out what that means.

“Ah! Look out! Did ye not see that branch in the road?  Yer gonna get both of us killed!”

Madame Tracy pats his hand. She’s been listening to him grumble for over three decades, and has learned which words to listen to. “Just hold tight, Mr. S. We’ll get you home safe in no time.”

--

Back in Tadfield, Brian dumps his bike in the grass and comes inside. He was supposed to be home hours ago. Instead, he’s been making circles through the village, trying to think.

His parents are still on the sofa, his father nearly asleep, his mother switching between three different shows. Waiting for him. When his mother looks up, she isn’t angry, just making a point. We’re up late because you didn’t follow the rules.

Normally, he’d apologize and go to bed.

Tonight, he slides onto the sofa between his parents. It’s a tight fit – Brian is big for his age – but he manages it, his father stirring enough to make room.

Brian leans his head on his mother’s shoulder. “Is this alright?”

“I…yes, it’s fine.” Brian doesn’t cuddle anymore. He outgrew that ages ago. “Did you have a bad day?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Did you fight with your friends?”

He bites his lip. “Yeah. But. It’s better now. Just don’t want to talk about it.”

“Alright then.” She leans closer and kisses his forehead. His father rubs Brian’s hair, as if he was still a little kid. Brian doesn’t mind.

They sit like that a long time, silently together.

--

In London, an International Delivery Man returns home after the longest day of his life. 

He hangs his hat and jacket, moves quietly into the bedroom. Maud is exactly where he left her, lying in bed, hair rumpled. Feeling a sudden urgency, he sits beside her, shakes her awake.

“Mmmh…are you finally home?” She blinks her eyes open. “What time is it? I waited all day.” He can hear the concern in her voice. “Thought something happened. You never even called.”

“I know, I’m sorry. Had an extra pickup to make, and…”

The deliveries, the final message, the strange gap in time and the half-memories that filled it.

“Lesley?” She sits up fully now, putting an arm around him. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

He wants to tell her, but he wouldn’t know where to begin. He feels like everything should be different. Certain things you’re not supposed to live through, you’re not supposed to come back from unchanged. But he doesn’t feel different. Should he?

“Nothing. Sorry I woke you, love. Go back to sleep.”

But Maud knows that look. Knows his brain is still running, that it will be for hours yet. Lesley isn’t usually what you would call a deep thinker, but when he finally catches on something, he has a hard time letting it go.

So she takes his hand. “Do you want to know about my day?”

“Of course.”

Maud settles against him, with the familiar comfort of many decades of marriage, and explains all about the sales at the shop, and the unexpected weather, and her hunt for an umbrella.

--

The bus finally arrives in London, dropping off its last two passengers. They lean against each other as they walk, arms around waists, holding each other upright.

A few minutes later, the driver - dazed and uncertain why he drove all this way - finds the reservation confirmation for one night at one of the city’s finest luxury hotels, and a rather large meal voucher.

He barely uses the room.

Many of the guests have gathered in the hotel bar, long past the time it usually empties. It’s a subdued affair, fewer drinks than one might expect, quiet conversation. Just little groups of strangers, sharing their stories.

The other guests have paid more on this trip to London than the bus driver earns in a month. 

He sits at the bar, glass in hand, trying to decide who to approach and how. The bartender sees him hesitating, and moves closer. “Strange night,” she says, restacking glasses behind the counter. 

“Should have stayed in my room,” the driver says sourly. “But, dunno. It was too quiet.”

“Not the only one who feels that way.” She nods to a nearby group. “Normally would have kicked them all out by now but...just doesn’t feel right.”

“Hope they pay you enough for this.” The driver hasn’t even checked the fuel in the bus, but no doubt the difference will come out of his paycheck.[1]

“Well enough,” the bartender says, then lowers her voice. “But I might be taking some sick time next week. Head up to Kingham to see my folks.”

The driver blinks. “You’re from Kingham? Out by Chipping Norton?”

“Yeah. Heard of it?”

“Heard of it? I’m from Churchill.”

The bartender laughs, leaning on the counter. “What are the odds of that? What brings you down to London?”

“I haven’t the first idea.” The driver takes a drink, smiling. It feels nice to meet someone from his part of the world, a glimmer of familiarity amidst all this strangeness. “How about you?”

“Bit of a long story.”

The driver glances at the milling crowd, no sign of breaking up any time soon. “We’ve got time.”

--

In the Wensleydale household, the parents have long since gone to bed. But their son sits in the kitchen with the telephone and a list of names and phone numbers. He’s been working his way through it all night.

Most of the numbers are unfamiliar. Family and friends you see at Christmas, talk with, exchange sweaters and fruitcakes, and never really think of again for another year. People you have known your whole life, but never really speak to.

He listens to the phone ring, until someone picks up.

“Hello? Aunt Ethel?” He pauses. “It’s Wensley – Jeremy Wensleydale.” Odd. He’s used his full name more times tonight than he has in a year. It occurs to him that he might not like it.

He’s not quite sure what to make of that, what it might mean. But it isn’t important just yet.

“Yes, it has been a while,” he agrees. “I’m sorry to call so late, but I wanted to tell you, I really did like that book you got me for Christmas. It’s not the kind I usually read,” he adds, scrupulously honest, “but father said I should give it a try, and it really was quite interesting.”

Another pause.

“You’re welcome. How have you been?” His smile falls. “Oh. I’m sorry. How long were you in hospital?” He listens a little while longer. “That sounds serious.”

Wensley doesn’t know much about medicine. He likes science well enough, but his interests don’t lie that way. He is, however, more astute than most people think. He knows when someone’s upset, even when they try to hide it. He knows when someone wants to keep talking, but doesn't want to be a bother.

He’s felt these things himself.

“Actually, I’d quite like to hear more about the table tennis. I’ve only ever seen it on television, but it seems interesting. Did everyone at the hospital play?”

He sets down his pencil and puts the list aside. He knows if he stops to talk to everyone like this, it will take all night. But he doesn’t mind. Sometimes it feels good just to talk.

--

In a hotel near the airport, Harriet Dowling pauses on the way to bed, hearing the distinctive sound of a young boy trying not to cry.

She hesitates outside his door for a long time. It’s easier to get a nanny for these things. Nannies are trained, they know what to say. No one ever taught Harriet how to be a mother.

But, finally, she pushes the door open. “Warlock? Are you…do you need anything?”

“Shut up,” he snaps, sniffling in the dark. “Go away. I’m fine.”

Should she do what he says? Should she push back? “Honey…I know you aren’t fine. You can tell me. What’s wrong?”

“What do you think is wrong? I don’t want to go to – to stupid America. I want to go back to London, I want to see my friends again!”

“Warlock—”

“I want my Nanny!”

Silence fills the room.

“Warlock. Nanny is gone.” She hears him flump down angrily in the bed. Cautiously, Harriet steps forward, closing the distance. “I wish she wasn’t. She was a model employee, but she had to…” Her brain scrambles for a moment, unable to remember the circumstances of Nanny Ashtoreth’s departure. “She had to go home.” That seemed right.

“Why does everyone have to leave? Why does everything have to change?”

“I…that’s just how life is, Warlock.” No, that tone is all wrong. She tries again, softer. “Things never stop changing. We just…we do the best we can. We make mistakes, we adapt, we keep going.” She sinks onto the edge of the bed. “I know you miss Nanny. I miss her, too. She…she took good care of you, and I’m so grateful for that.”

“She cared about me,” Warlock snaps, accusing.

“I care about you, I’m your mother—” She takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I love you, Warlock, and…if you don’t know that, it’s my fault.” Harriet turns away, trying to hide her tears. “I wish she was here, too, but, well…it’s just me. But I’ll do my best.”

She doesn’t know what to say next, but Warlock grabs her, clings to her, cries into her shoulder like he hasn’t in years. Harriet feels the familiar wave of panic, and the ache, the need to find someone who can help her child.

But there isn’t anyone left but her.

So, uncertain, she puts her arms around her son. “It’s ok, Warlock. We’ll get through this. We’ll…we’ll find a way.”

--

The angel and demon don’t speak as they walk through the apartment, settle into bed. After six thousand years, some things don’t need to be said.

They reach out in the darkness, drawn together, warmth seeking warmth. Every touch of skin on skin is a comfort, a sign that nothing has ended yet, that the world continues to turn. They hold each other silently, pulling close, closer, as if trying to become one being.

The world around them trembles, and they feel every aftershock.

“Do you think they’ll be alright?” Aziraphale wonders, lifting his face from where it rests on Crowley’s shoulder.

“Who?” Crowley clings to Aziraphale, as if to absorb his strength, as if the angel were the last solid object in the world.

“Everyone. The humans. Earth.” When he sighs, the breath is hot on Crowley’s cheek. “If something happens to us, will they be alright?”

“Dunno. Not really up to us anymore, is it? You do your best, take care of them, send them out to live their lives, and just hope it all works out.”

Aziraphale nods, but he doesn’t feel any better. “They aren’t bad, you know. The humans. Yes they can be cruel and - and cold, and they’ve made mistakes but every one of them is capable of so much kindness. So much love. They just – they need—”

“I know.” Crowley runs a hand across his cheek. “If anyone knows, it’s me. And...yeah. I think they’re going to be fine.”

The angel pulls closer, burrowing against Crowley’s chest until he can hear his heartbeat, feel the rise and fall of every breath.

“But nothing’s going to happen to us, right?” The demon’s voice is as enthusiastic as he can make it, his fingers gently stroking through silver curls. “We’ll get out of this. We’ll be back. And then we’ll be able to do whatever the Heaven we want.”

“Ah.” Aziraphale watches his fingers curl along Crowley’s bicep. “Together?”

After six thousand years, it’s good to hear certain things out loud.

“Yeah. Together.”

--

Adam sits alone in bed, except for Dog, crouched by his feet and watching attentively. The boy moves now and then, reaching out a hand to scratch Dog’s head, but never opens his eyes. 

At the airbase he could see it. Could feel it. The world had gone wrong, very wrong; all day, all week. Some of the wrongness went all the way back to when he was born.

There’s no way to fix it all, no way to find every thread and put it back in place. That just disturbed other strands, and others, and others. And every one of those threads is a life.

Still, he keeps reaching.

A delivery man, safely home with his wife.

A telemarketer, waking confused from a terrible dream full of maggots and screaming, and a young child’s voice telling her she really ought to find another job. Tricking people into buying stuff is no good.

An ex-nun who didn’t deserve to have her business taken away over a misunderstanding with some guns.

A thousand people who’d been blasted with demonic power when they’d simply wanted to go for a drive.

One very loyal car.

Adam can’t put everything right. It’s too big a job, even for an Antichrist, and in any case who’s he to say what right is?

But he will fix what he can fix, and trust humanity to figure out the rest.

So, all through the night, Adam works; and all around the world, people hold each other a little closer, feeling afraid, feeling hopeful. Feeling loved.

[1]It won’t. The bus’s tank is full, and will remain so on the drive back. A miracle, but the sort that usually goes unnoticed.

--

Thank you all for reading!

[akvtsuki-ari]

Downers

Warnings: smut, fingering, penetration, oral (both recieving),(( reader swallows lol)), alchohol 

Length: 4.7k 

Authors Note: idk how to explain the context of this fic kjshjek but before you read i highly reccomend listening to the song this fic is based on!! normally it doesn’ matter either way but it’s directly apart of the fic!! the song is Downers by Greentea Peng 

Summary: Spencer comes back from a one-night stand with insomnia he can’t shake. The hotel bar is welcome company, and the singer there seems to catch all his attention

Spencer couldn't remember her name.

Here he was in her hotel room, mouth on her neck, hands on her skin - whispering to her how beautiful she was and he just couldn't remember her name. He doesn't even know if he asked - he can't remember that much of their interactions since there interaction in the bar. Her dress was pretty, so Spencer went up to her. She was alone - she needed the company, her and her boyfriend were taking a break he thinks. She told him that she liked his tie, and his hair and he smiled and dazzled her, made a stupid magic joke and manage to get her back here

Spencer was good at this now, he knew how to get here everytime. It wasn't difficult after you get the hang of it. It was profiling after all, something he realized when this all started so many months ago. It's funny to try and recall a time before this - Spencer was always the butt of the joke because he used to tell himself he couldn't do one night stands. He wasn't wrong, either - at first he would just get too attached but things stopped mattering. Slowly but surely all the pieces fell away and he just started needing easy company, shed his skin of his job and make sure he made someone else feel good.

He was never really hedonistic but he figures things change right? When he fucks another girl whose name he doesn't remember, he's not keeping score - just trying to focus on making her feel good and the way it feels when he orgasms. He's chasing that feeling of high - even if it's temporary it makes him feel something and that's enough. Life is about more than chasing pleasure in the long run but this was now, and the feeling of the girl whose name he can't remember wrapping her mouth along the tip of his dick was enough. For now this feeling was enough, bucking his hips into her throat and making sure she gets off. He was an asshole but he wasn't a selfish one.

"Shit, I'm gonna cum," She annouces. Spencer nods in approval, pressing his forehead against hers as she finishes. She moans Spencers name aloud and Spencer wants to ignore it but he can't. Spencer cums soon after that, pulling out of the unnamed women beneath him

"Jesus," she breathes out heavy. Spencer laughs before looking at her.

"I'm gonna go take a shower," she says to him softly, "feel free to join me," she winks. Spencer just gives her a smile as she slinks away into the bathroom.

Spencer knew the drill. He didn't leave a note, he didn't ask her name because he wasn't planning on seeing her again. He sits a few minutes, redressing quietly and leaving quieter. He used to flinch when he shut the door but the hotel hallway was familiar to him now. Making eye contact with cleaning women and janitors who gave him what felt like knowing stares. Spencer was used to it, all of it - even if it was difficult.

Spencer doesn't feel like a slut. He probably should, but he doesn't really feel anything. He's doing the walk of shame, leaving her hotel room in the middle of the night and he just sorta.. doesn't care.

He wishes he did, but there's no time for that now. He checks the watch on his wrist, the time reading 1am and as if on cue, he yawns. His eyes are sleepy and he's rather exhausted, and he finds himself heading back to his own hotel in a tired daze

__

When Spencer returns to his hotel - he really can't sleep. He tries, laid in bed, tossing and turning for hours but it wasn't coming to him. They were supposed to be leaving the day after tomorrow, closed in by the weather that wouldn't let the jet take off so he was stuck there. He wanted nothing more than to get some rest, but it was fruitless. Spencer looks over at the pamphlet he picked up from downstairs - looking at all the different things that the hotel had going on. It says there's a live, late-night singer at the bar in the hotel. Y/N Y/L/N. He sighs, rubbing his face with his hands before standing up and putting back on his normal clothes. A live show and a drink might not be so bad, and maybe there's something (or really someone,) for Spencer to do.

He walks down at 3am, it'd only been an hour since he got back and it was still dark out. Everything was still as he walked into the hallway and elevator. every sound felt louder and more distinct. There wasn't a soul out there other than staff who was forced to work earlier shifts and other people doing the same walk of shame he was doing earlier. He can't bring himself to look at them, but Spencer was certainly understanding of them.

He manages to make it to the hotel bar, which was surprisingly nice - he has to admit. Lowlights and candelabras all over the place add to the ambiance, the ceiling mirrored as he looks to all the patrons in the bar. Mostly older men, drinking whiskey alone as typical as it was. There were some women that caught his eyes, but he's not ready to tango with someone like that so he orders a drink at the bar. He likes scotch on the rocks, but he's not really one to drink it often. One can't hurt, he doesn't think. The odd sense of isolation while being in a public place and the alcohol in his system might make him more tired faster. He doesn't want another one-night stand but that loneliness hits quickly, and his original plans may fall through.

He waits it out, sitting down at a chair near the small platform that served as a stage. He watches as on older gentleman picks the mic up, announcing that name he read earlier. Y/N Y/L/N.

He sees a woman walk up onto the stage, so beautiful he coughs on his scotch. A man across the ways looks to Spencer and laughs, nodding in understanding.

"Wait till you hear her voice," He says quietly. Spencer just nods, eyes fixated on the way you move. You look classic, hair let loose wearing a sequin dress. You weren't too flashy, but you definitely managed to catch everyone's attention. You had a jaded expression, eyes flashing up to the crowd softly. You look directly towards Spencer and give him a knowing smile. He was new, you'd never seen him here before.

"How's everyone doing tonight, hm? Can't be too well if you're here seeing me at 4am, but still good I hope," you say chuckling. It lightens the somewhat somber energy that seems to swallow the place up as the bar regulars and other lonely folks of the night all watch you. You laugh softly into the microphone.

"Anyone have any requests for me, or am I free to sing what I'd like?," you ask the small audience. Everyone gives encouraging whoops at the second option and you give that same lighthearted giggle that Spencers heart aches for. You were unbelivably beautiful, the light catching the highlights of your face as you look at everyone smoothly. You tuck some hair behind your ears as you look to the small band.

"Let's do the song I was practicing upstairs earlier," you call to them. They all nod their heads at you, as you clear your throat and take a sip of water.

"This song is called Downers, by Greentea Peng," you say softly. You start humming along with the music before you start to sing the lyrics and christ -

"I can't smell the flowers / felt empty now for hours / lost my powers / I can't smell the flowers / I'm sick of all these towers / think I done too many Downers," You sing the first verse with ease. Spencer's ears are so attuned to the music he can barely drink his scotch. Your voice is melodic, it flows out with no problem and soothes Spencer so much he feels like he could pass out right there. His eyes look to your expression, eyes closed as you smile at the self-aware lyrics of the song. Your body language is so comfortable with the words, he imagines the song is personal to you in some way.

"hard to see the value in these half-hearted encounters / can't deal with the truth so we just change the world around us / to feel and smell just like we want it to / fuck what we're meant to do / can't hang round be no fool / wasting time just getting high / getting high / to get by / clear my mind clear blue skies / all this time I've been flying from up here," You sing the runs with easy, your voice syncing perfectly with the music being played. Spencer's eyes don't leave you for even a second as he watches you sink in and become part of the music. Your shoulders fall, as you tap along the rhythm of the song before singing the chorus again, then delving into the second verse.

The first verse weighs on Spencer's mind as you continue onto the second and third verse. The lyrics of the song are as fitting to him as possible. It feels too relevant for Spencer to forget about it but he tries as you continue your performance, mixing modern radio ballads with older classics. Your voice is like medicine to Spencer's exhaustion, he wants to relax in the sound forever and his head's so fixated on you - he knows he needs to talk to you. To get to know you, something if anything. He doesn't remember the last time he's felt this strong towards someone but he'd be damned if he didn't chase it.

When you finish your performance, you collect tips from all the bar patrons and wish everybody a kind morning. Spencer didn't realize that another full hour had passed and he sees walking towards the bar so, in the least creepy way he can, he stands to follow you. You order a club soda and sit on the bench, where Spencer takes a seat next to you. You roll your eyes, but you'd be lying if you said he wasn't attractive to you. You turn your body to face him and he shoots you smile in return.

"You're not one for subtlety are you?," you say softly as the bartender hands you your drink. You take a sip, feeling the cool relief on your worn throat. Spencer laughs, looking at the floor before looking back up at you.

"For a woman as beautiful as you? Can't say I am, no," Spencer says lightly. You roll your eyes but you're smiling into your drink as you do.

"What about flattery?," you ask again. Spencer chews the corner of his lips as his eyes grace your body, noticing the way your skin shows around the shoulders of your dress. He laughs.

"That one I can manage," Spencer's voice is a murmur. You put your drink down and readjust how you sit, looking at Spencer's face. You can see right through him, really. You can with most men, but especially someone who does what you used to do. You want to laugh at him and say theres no need for the formality but it isn't for the two of you. It's for the people in the bar who count the seconds before you two walk away together. You were going to fuck him, you knew that the second he sat so close during your performance but the rest of the bar didn't so the formal talk and idle chat is for them.

"I don't really do this very often -" Spencer starts. You roll your eyes, cutting him off mid-sentence.

"You're not a good liar, you know that?," you say softly. Spencer is startled but intrigued by your observation. He looks to you for an explanation and you just shrug at him. He looks into your eyes and it's like you see past him. He falters for a few seconds.

"Old habits die hard," you start first "picking up on when someones lying to sleep with me just happens to be one," you say, chuckling. You're not upset or sarcastic, simply laughing at the situation and reminiscing. Spencer shifts uncomfortably for a second, not really used to someone being able to see through him so quickly.

"I should be clear that I'd still like to sleep with you," you say, blinking through your lashes. Spencer nearly chokes when he hears, a blush forming on his face. It was becoming clear that you were gonna lead the way on this one.

"But don't be dishonest, it's boring - you yourself are probably more interesting than what you tell other people," you say thoughtfully. Spencers befuddled at how you just seem to know but you shake your head.

"I've made my rounds, men and women," you say casually. Spencer feels like he's dying at your confession but can't help himself - finding it beyond attractive that you managed both.

"What do you wanna know?" Spencer asks relaxed. You give him a small smile.

"What's your name? What do you do? Whats your star sign? The usual," you say jokingly. Spencer can't help but laugh, genuinely laugh.

"My names Dr. Spencer Reid, I work for the FBI for the Behavioral Analysis Unit, and I'm told I'm a Scorpio," Spencer says, smiling. Penelope told him that forever ago though he hasn't thought about since then. You give him a grin.

"An FBI agent ? You must be here for all the murders they had in downtown, huh?," you ask curiously. He looks suprised but how in touch you are.

"I keep up with the news," you say casually. Spencer keeps learning about you and his attraction to you only increased. He nods, telling you you're right and you mentally high-five yourself.

"What do you wanna ask me?," you say, perching your lips out. Spencer looks at them before his eyes flick up at your eyes

"What else do you? Other than sing, I mean,"

You tilt your head in though for a second, before shrugging.

"For work? I make most of my money singing, anyways. I studied other stuff in college, but music is what I love to do and I make decent money off of working different celebrations. This bar gave me my first gig so I'm always here. Other than that, I volunteer at local stuff - gotta keep in touch you know?," you softly. Spencer looks at your expression with an adoration he can't explain. He finds himself speaking before he can think too much about it.

"I haven't been looked into like that before," Spencer blurts out. You chuckle.

"You said you do behavioral analysis, right?," you asks. Spencer nods.

"Trying to get someone to fuck you is esentially the same. You watch them and try to appeal to their situations so you get your result. You're a hunter, all the same. Sometimes it's killers and sometimes it's an attractive woman whose married but doesn't have her ring on - it's a mindgame," you say carefully. Spencer knows you're right but the way you say it so bluntly makes him feel a way. It's the first time a woman has made him this uncomfortable and in a fucked up way he's happy about it. It sounds cocky, but the challenge is attractive to Spencer. You weren't trying to isolate yourself from other women, instead just making a general commentary on human beings. You were intelligent.

"How could you tell?,"

"You're too well practiced with expression and stuff. Too much attention to detail," you reply.

"You're entitled to whatever but be careful with yourself," you warn. Spencer just listens.

"Full disclosure, I studied criminology in college - so I'm familiar with your work," you say a little shy, Spencer raises his brows and assures it's fine before you continue.

"You do what you do at work because it catches them. You can hold onto a happy ending and that's important," you say softly "But, sleeping around is a personal cause with no heroes you know? The loneliness will always come back, and those mind games you play just to get rid of it will start to fracture you," you say thoughtfully. Spencer feels some tears prick at his eyes but he covers them before he looks at you.

"I don't sleep around much anymore, but when I do - I can't promise I'll leave my name and number. Old habits, you know? But I see myself in you, the way you move is something I definitely recall," you say laughing. Spencer feels so damn weird - confused as to how you're so perceptive.

"Sorry to read you like that, I just like you. You're interesting," you say, cute as ever. Spencer is unbelievably attracted to you.

"I'm a little speechless," Spencer says laughing.

"Sorry?,"

"Don't be, but you feel like a sign to me," Spencer says softly.

"The woman I.. you know - earlier, I don't even remember her name," Spencer admits a little sadly. You shake your head, reaching out to grab his hand to provide him some comfort. He finds himself holding on.

"You learn to face the loneliness, and sometimes it makes cool stuff like this happen," you say giggling.

"I wanna remember your name," Spencer admits. You give him a small smile.

"Even after I just came for you and this is only our first meeting?"

"Especially because of that,"

You laugh aloud and Spencer notes how lovely the sound is. You look at him, before taking another sip of your drink. You stand tall, patting down your skirt before walking away, Spencer stars dumbfounded for a few seconds before he hears your voice.

"You coming?" You ask. Spencer couldn't manage to bolt faster. _____

"Can I kiss you?," Is the first question Spencer asks you when you end up in your hotel room. You laugh, looking into his eyes as the two of you stand in front of the hotel door. You put your hands on Spencer's waist, making your way up to his chest.

"It's all I've been thinking about for the last few hours so," you say softly. Spencer grins at you, leaning his head down before placing his lips on yours, slowly parting them to catch a little bit more of you. Its slow at first but only then, slowly the speed of each kiss inbetween picks up. Spencer's tongue nips yours, hands running your sides as he touches you hesitant. The whole gesture is hesitant still, though the heat is coming close to just being too much. You use your teeth gently to hitch Spencer's bottom lip and the gestures welcomed.

You pull away from Spencer to look at him, looking into his eyes with an affectionate need.

"Hey, Spencer?,"

"Yes?,"

"If you don't fuck the shit out of me, I don't think I'll ever forgive you,"

Spencer grins, before you give him a shy smile. Spencer kisses you again, the two of you moving to the bed soon after. Spencer sits on the edge of the bed, while you straddle him. Spencer's hands grip your backside. You let out a noise of suprise but Spencer just smiles, leaning his face into your neck. His teeth graze your neck, placing small kisses on patches of it as you tilt it up to give him more room. He nips at the area, sucking small hickies into it. His fingers work their way to the zipper of your dress as you lean into him, your hands on the side of his face.

Your dress falls off your shoulders, as you move back to take it off. Spencer's eyes watch you as you move out of it - throat dry as he sees that you're not wearing a bra. Your nipples come to attention at the cool air in the room and Spencer's hands move to touch you before he can think about it. He brushes them carefully, back and forth sending pleasure shooting through you rather unexpected. You managed to sit on Spencer's lap again before he continues but you whine with displeasure.

His eyes flick to you with curiosity but you don't have to explain much, simply undoing his belt, urging him to unbutton his shirt by tugging at it. He can't help his laughter as he looks at you adoringly.

"Impatient," he reminds you. You give him that same innocent look from before you as you nod at him.

"For you? Always," you reply back. Spencer leans in to kiss you again before he lets you sit in the bed, watching him undress as he did for you only moments ago. You drink in the sight of his skin, the way his hard-on sits in his boxers, standing to attention. You can't stop looking at it, the feeling of lust creeping at your throat.

"Spencer, lay down," you urge softly. He gives you a look of question but does as told, walking to the other side of the bed and laying down as he's told. He catches wind of your plan soon after, watching you take your panties off and revealing arousal that's managed to slide down your thighs. His throat catches but his silent request is soon fulfilled as you place for knees on either side of Spencer's head and settle yourself over his tongue. Spencer's hands grip your thighs as he places a few soft kisses on them, before arching his neck to meet your clit with his tongue. He's patient, flattening his tongue against your clit before motioning it back and forth. The feeling is so sudden, pleasure ripping through you as you use your hips to grind onto to Spencer's tongue.

You lean down over Spencer's cock, spitting onto the head before your mouth wraps around the tip. You use your hands to steady yourself before you bob your head, hollowing your cheeks out which makes Spencer choke. He had figured you'd both be good in bed but it's starting to be clear that it was a lot more than that.

Spencer feels good - so fucking good because he was just so attracted to you and the feeling of your mouth around his dick was working him. Your thighs moved so confidently to grind onto his tongue, using his face for your pleasure while returning the favor, you were more than good. Spencer feels you in his chest, twitching in your mouth when his mind feels with all the possibilities of what else he could do. It wasn't enough to taste you - he would keep seeking out your pleasure until the thought of him never left your mind.

This position was really just a competition to see who could make the other unravel fastest. The feeling of satisfaction he recieved when he feels you pulsate around his tongue is unmatched - the sound of tone throat gagging as you moan out some version his name, cumming all over his face but not stopping your hips. Spencer can taste you everywhere and you taste as good as you look. He's unsure of how you've managed that but he's pleased. You ride your high before you life yourself off of his face, switching yourself to be positioned over his dick. You're more than ready to do that but Spencer's stops you, looking into your eyes as he sits up. You sit between his legs but he moves you up - positioning you to expose yourself too him. Easy access.

Spencer pushes his two middle fingers between your lips, which part for Spencer easily. Your tongue wraps around them, sucking them obediently and Spencer smiles at you. He pulls them out for you, sliding his thumb along your clit before slipping his fingers inside of you, curling them up inside of you. You lean, gripping onto Spencer's shoulder letting out whimpers next to his ear. He brushes against your gspot with ease, padding against it with rhythm. The feeling makes your legs shake, Spencer already close to bringing you to orgasm and despite his somewhat aching wrist makes sure the speed is consistent.

"Spencer, please - oh my god please," this is the first time you've addressed Spencer directly and it makes Spencer's whole body ache to fuck you.

"You're beautiful," Spencer breathes out. You pull away from his shoulders and put your hands on the side of his face, kissing him intensely as you looked into his expression. You're quick to cum a second time , convulsing around his hands a second time as you hold onto his back, fingernails digging in his skin as your whole body lights up in fireworks. Moans pour from your throat as you finish, riding out your high as Spencer slows

"Spencer," your voice is unsteady as you call out to him. He hums in response and you look at him, making eye contact.

"Would you like to go on a date sometime?," you breathe out. Spencer can't help the little giggles he lets out before nodding, kissing you softly.

"Seems like you've beat me to asking," Spencer says. You kiss Spencer once more, softly and slowly before smiling in his shoulder.

"Mm, fuck me," you say giggling. Spencer laughs before he repositions himself to penetrate you, pulling out a condom from the drawer and rolling it down his erection. He lines himself with your entrance, slowly but surely watching you sink down on his cock. He chokes as he feels you around him - tight and warm and wet, taking him so well. Spencer stretches you out better than you were expecting - a burning ache as Spencer pushes towards your cervix. He's buried in you, fingers holding you up for a second.

Spencer holds you up before laying you down, hands pinning yours above your head before pulling his hips back and pounding into you. Spencer voice groans out in your ear, his orgasm drawing him closer and closer to the edge.

You use your fingers to run out one final orgasm, convulsing around Spencer which makes his whole body ache.

"I'm gonna cum," Spencer announces.

"Cum in my mouth?," you offer Spencer. He groans aloud, pulling out and sliding the condom off before positioning himself over your face. You adjust yourself by lifting yourself up on your elbows, allowing Spencer to ease into the back of your throat. Spencer lets go as soon as he does, finish in your mouth where you swallow immediately, eyes glassy as you look up at Spencer. You give him a smile, opening your mouth to show that it's all swallow, before laying back down again exhausted.

"Jesus Christ, Spencer" you say softly. He gives you a small smile.

"You should get some rest," Spencer says softly. You roll your eyes, sitting back up before leaning your head on Spencer's shoulder.

"Mm if I did that, would you be here when I woke up? Nice try, lover boy," you say. Spencer laughs, voice soft as the sun starts to rise outside.

"I'm gonna shower, and since neither of us are sleeping - you can take me to breakfast," you say, standing up and giving Spencer a kiss atop his head.

"Disappear on me and I'll book a ticket all the way to Quantico and embarrass you infront of your whole team," you say jokingly. Spencer hugs your waist as you stand and you can't help the way it melts you.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Spencer replies back. You use your hands to make him look st you and smile at him.

"Good. I'd invite you to come shower with me but I'm gonna guess you need clothes so - meet me downstairs in the lobby in like 30 mins," you instruct. Spencer just nods.

"I need your number," Spencer asks. You look into the drawer and lean down, writing your number on his chest. He looks down at it and smiles. He can see himself in the mirror, noticing you wrote it backwards so he could see it. God, Spencer is into you.

"I'm sure it'll wash off," you say smiling. Spencer rolls his eyes, the hickies you managed to bite into his skin making irony very clear. You give him a cheeky look and he can't help but laugh.

"Y/N," Spencer says to himself. You look at him confused and he just shakes his head.

"You're too fascinating to forget," Spencer says smiling. You can't help but grin, leaning down to kiss him.

"So are you, Dr. Spencer Reid,"

____

taglist: @cynbx​ @zephyr-studiesjp​ @skrrrrrrrrrrt​ @reid-187​ @louistwinslover​ @pastanest​ @nomajdetective​ @iamburdened​

[yuta-nakamots]

Candle Light - l.hc ; Part 2 of 2 (End)

Pairing - College!Haechan x Ghost!Reader

Genre - Fluff but mostly angst at the end

Warnings - Character death, supernatural activity (you are literally a ghost)

Summary - As the resident ghost that haunts your old apartment, you take pride in scaring away those who dare move in, not wanting them to ruin your memories. Though your mission changes after a group of boys arrive. These are the four boys you allow into your space and your heart. One of them is the candle that supports you, and you are the fire that burns atop it, his beacon of light.

Word Count - 6.2k

A/N - as always, credit goes to @soleilhyuck​ for coming up with the idea for this fic. thank you for patiently waiting and giving lots of love to this series and please look forward to frat boy!yuta next month as well <3

Tag List - @sunflowerhae @eunsangelical @soleilhyuck @neoyoungho @carefreebubble @sly-merlin @jisungismymom @jimelonji @lyraaacle @peachy-yabbay @yomanitsgonnabehee​

January 2020

News about the new virus was quickly spreading, as was the disease itself, unironically. You sat next to Renjun as he watched the news on TV and played a game on his phone while Jeno was lying on the floor in front of the coffee table as he typed out an essay on his laptop.

You watched as the newscaster stood in front of a graph showing the number of cases spiking up as he said “all local colleges will be migrating to an online schooling system for the second half of this year” to which Jeno let out a loud groan at.

“How the fuck am I supposed to do all my labs then?” he muttered under his breath, angrily hitting the carpeted floor. You laughed at his childish action, Jeno’s head whipping around as he looked in your general direction with his pupils shaking as he tried to find a face to match the voice he had just heard.

“Hey y/n, I think Jeno can hear you,” Renjun said nonchalantly as he continued watching the news station on TV, “okay, Jeno wait I think you should pay attention to the screen.”

He informed the other boy just in time as the anchor said “certain schools have disclosed that some students may still be required to return to campus for activities such as labs or other assessment events.”

Jeno rolled onto his back, letting out another groan that was almost actually a growl. “I don’t know which is worse. Having to go to school during a pandemic, or having to learn from my computer 24/7.”

February 2020

As more plans for the second semester were announced, Jeno did end up having to still visit the campus for his labs so he was occasionally out along with Jaemin who was volunteering at a hospital nearby, the same one your body was taken to after the incident, not that you’d ever tell them that though.

Jaemin had convinced Renjun to come along saying “we need extra help and it’s not like you’re doing anything anyways now that class is online” as he quite literally dragged Renjun out the front door.

This left you with Haechan, who was only able to see you in certain instances because he was still not totally sure if you really existed or not. He still used the scented candles in his room, much to your distaste, since you found yourself having to put out the flame nearly every night due to his forgetfulness.

He’d spend almost every waking moment on his computer playing Overwatch and whatever other games he was into, only stopping when we had to attend his mandatory online lectures. Even then, he’d still have the game up on his screen, barely even caring about the lecture.

Eventually, this irritated you enough, having been quite a good student yourself, to the point where you just lost it when you saw him pull up his school account and you peered over his shoulder and realizing how bad his grades really were.

“You shouldn’t do that, you know.” You spoke to him, hovering behind him as you read through the contents of his student profile.

Haechan froze for a second, surprised by your voice though he didn’t make an effort to turn around. “Well, you shouldn’t just scare people like that.” He retorted at you.

“Then don’t take your college life for granted,” you remark, not missing the high amount of absences he had even though all his courses were online, “I would’ve loved to have completed mine, but that just didn’t seem to be in my life plan now, was it?” You asked rhetorically, your voice laced with sarcasm to match his.

“What are you gonna do about it, huh?” He spat out at you. “You can’t force me to study.”

You rolled your eyes at him even if he couldn’t see you as you scoffed, “yes I can.” Quite literally, you moved through his desk and unplugged his computer from its power socket. A satisfactory grin fell upon your face as you heard his monitor die out and you look at him. His mouth was slightly agape as he finally saw you up close, your previously translucent figure becoming clearer and clearer to him with every second that passed.

From then on, Haechan consciously made an effort to cut back on his gaming and dedicate more time to his schoolwork, as he hated not knowing when you’d decide to pop into his room again and he didn’t want to risk more damage to his precious computer.

Sometimes he’d spend so much time studying that he’d even fall asleep at his desk, to which you could only sigh at as you fanned out the flames of his stupid scented candles that he continued to use before grabbing his blanket from his bed and placing it atop his shoulders.

March 2020

You found that you actually quite enjoyed spending time with Haechan as he was more entertaining and witty than Renjun. Though on a particularly slow afternoon, you watched Haechan as he went about making a sandwich in the kitchen, making yourself known to him by a light tug on his shirt before he asked “so why exactly do you haunt this apartment?”

You were leaning against the kitchen island behind him, not even having bothered to materialize in your semi-human form since you let him pick and choose when he wanted to see you or not. “If I’m being honest, I really don’t know. All I’m sure about is that this unit is my unit. It always has been and it always will be.”

“Well, what are your ties to this place? What does it mean to you?” He pressed on as he grabbed a slice of bologna from the refrigerator.

After pausing for a second as you recall your past, you told him “this is where I grew up, my parents moved here when I started elementary school and I’ve lived here for almost twenty years until I died and ever since then, I’ve just been here.”

“I’m sorry,” he interjected, looking at you and making eye contact to let you know he was being sincere, “I really am. You had so much to live for, your whole life ahead of you.” He shook his head in pity as he unwrapped a piece of cheese.

“Things don’t always go according to your plan, as you can see,” you stated before continuing on with your story, “anyways, my family moved out shortly after my incident because my sister would always cry whenever she had to pass the spot I was last alive at and eventually my parents couldn’t take it anymore so they just up and left.”

Haechan was unscrewing the lid of the jar of mayonnaise when he asked “why didn’t you stop them? Or did you try but they just weren’t able to see you?”

“They couldn’t see or hear me. I tried calling out to them, telling them I was still here, I was still alive, but nothing worked...and so they left me behind.” Your voice trailing off at the end as you felt a familiar pain in your chest at the memory of your family.

Haechan hummed in acknowledgment, spreading pieces of lettuce over the top of his sandwich, going silent before speaking again. “I think you need closure. Do you know where your family went to? I’m pretty sure we could--”

“No, I’d rather not talk to them.” You interrupted, not wanting to witness your family in pain again after having to watch them mourn your death in this very apartment. To them, you were a thing of the past and you wished to stay that way.

“You can’t just be cursed to wander around this unit for the rest of your life, or lack thereof. That’s a bit…” he paused as he wracked his brain for a word, turning up blank, “sad, for lack of a better word.”

You watched as he placed a slice of bread on top and pressed it down before biting into his creation. “It’s not like it was my choice in the first place, you know,” you strongly articulated, “if you really wanted to help me then you’d leave this place and let me wander in peace now that you know my story.”

“We both know damn well that you’re not gonna be happy if we leave you on your own.” And the most surprising part of his statement was that he was right.

April 2020

After your previous conversation with Haechan, the two of you started avoiding each other and you ended up spending more time with Jeno when he eventually came around to being able to see you. He was more of an easygoing presence and he didn’t mind it when you stayed in his room, he just asked that you “don’t mess with my stuff like when you stacked all my books up and turned my clothes inside out” the memory of it still makes you laugh to yourself.

You felt bad for Jeno, seeing him come home already exhausted from his labs and lectures, letting out a loud sigh whenever he entered through the front door as he was finally able to take off his face mask and allow himself to take a deep breath of air.

You’d often find him dozing off at his desk, his face resting either on his arm or on whatever page he had been going over. Sometimes, if you knew the assignment was important or if the deadline was near, you’d try to keep him awake by doing this like clicking his book or dropping a book on the floor. But if he was really knocked out, all you could do was just plug in his electronics to let them charge before bookmarking his page and clearing his desk for him.

On the night of his 20th birthday, the boys decided to have their own mini-party, which you excused yourself from. You didn’t want to get in the way of their celebration since you didn’t know for sure where you stood with Haechan and that’s on top of the fact that Jaemin still didn’t believe in your existence.

You stayed in Jeno’s room, softly plucking at the strings of his guitar which he had kindly left out for you. He had previously voiced his worries about you getting bored from always staying in the unit, which you found quite cute of him.

He came back to his room around midnight and you watched as he drunkenly made his way to the bathroom, stumbling in and nearly tripping over his own feet. You heard him throwing up into the toilet but you stayed put, knowing that you wouldn’t be of much help anyway. You recognized the sound of Haechan’s voice as he entered from his own side and tried to clean Jeno up.

Moments later, Haechan came into the room carrying a near unconscious Jeno to the bed you were currently sitting on. All Haechan had to do was merely glance at you before you were already materializing in human form to put Jeno’s guitar back on its stand and help Haechan get the birthday boy into bed.

Once Jeno was tucked in and snoring, you looked up at Haechan and he nodded his head in the direction of his room, inviting you to come over with him, which you did without much hesitation. You sat on the edge of his bed as he started up his computer as he asked you “don’t you ever get tired of just staying in the apartment all the time?”

You watched as he typed in his login information as you responded, “kind of, I guess. It’s all I know so it’s not like I really have anywhere else to go.”

“Have you ever tried leaving the building, or this unit at all?” He inquired while pulling up a page on google.

You thought for a moment before answering him. “No, I’ve never really wanted to leave because I’m comfortable here.”

Haechan simply nodded and stated “fair enough” as he switched tabs before turning to you. “I found this article the other day and I think this is relevant to you.” He informed, beckoning you over to him. You moved closer and read it from over his shoulder.

Certain spirits roam the earth as ghosts due to their souls holding onto the regret they had while they were still living. It is common for these types of ghosts to stay in a place that they have special emotional ties to. They often try to scare away people who enter their sacred place as they are trying to preserve it as it is in their memory, resisting change. There have been successful cases of exorcism for these types of ghosts, though oftentimes, it serves to only anger them further, which is why exorcism is not recommended. Edit: It has been found that the spirits often pass on to the true afterlife once they let go of the regrets they are holding and free themselves from the baggage that is tying them to their sacred place.

“Haechan, I already told you, I’m not leaving.”

“But think about it, you can’t just continue existing with one foot in the afterlife, one foot in the during-life,” causing you to laugh at his wording, “aren’t there other dead people you’d like to meet? You know, like Michael Jackson or something?”

“Of course, but how would you know if there really is an afterlife where I could meet them?”

“I don’t, but aren’t you getting tired of just watching people come and go? Aren’t you curious about the existence of an afterlife? You’ve been here for what, two years?”

“Three years.” You corrected, though he was correct about your boredom and curiosity even if it really was just in the slightest form.

You weren’t looking forward to when the boys moved out as it meant you’d be left on your own again. You had grown used to the four of them since you had at least one of them home at nearly all times. You didn’t want them to leave and you had even though about asking them to stay, but you knew it would be unfair to them as they had previously talked about their future educational plans.

Renjun already was in the process of transferring to a school or arts to further hone his skills as he was nearing the completion of his traditional core credits. Jeno wanted to study abroad and experience different cultures while Jaemin simply would follow along, having promised both of their parents that he would look out for Jeno and make sure he didn’t overwork himself though oftentimes it was the other way around.

As finals came around again, you witnessed the boys and their ways of dealing with the stress of their exams. Renjun simply painted aggressively while Jeno started stretching and working out more often and Jaemin, who still wasn’t able to hear or see you, resorted to cooking. You couldn’t believe Haechan broke out those godforsaken candles yet again, even after you had voiced your hatred for them, having to put out their flames and clean up the dripping wax as to not cause a fire hazard.

One day, Jaemin was finally able to see a faint outline of your silhouette when you managed to catch the knife he had accidentally pushed off the counter while preparing dinner for the guys. He really didn’t believe them when they spoke of your existence, he simply thought it was some kind of odd prank they were all in on, but when he saw his knife floating mere centimeters above his foot, he realized they weren’t lying at all.

Ever since then, you’ve enjoyed hanging around with all four of the boys. They each introduced you to their hobbies and did their best at including you in as many activities as possible. Renjun was overjoyed when he saw you lift a brush from his case and when you asked if you could join him. He was painting a simple sunset and was more than happy to have your company. Renju let you paint any way you wished, only helping here and there to blend in your strokes and fix some of the color gradients.

After it dried, you stood back as he hung the canvas up in the living room with a broad smile on his face. He turned around and you watched as his expression morphed into one of confusion when he didn’t see you behind him and he called out your name. You felt a sense of anxiety creep up on you, reminiscent of the feeling of when your own family were not about to see you.

You knew Renjun had it easiest when it came to seeing and hearing you so why was he having a hard time now? “Oh, there you are.” He said, when you came into his view again, seemingly lightheartedly but it was hard for both of you to feel at ease after what just occurred.

It happened again when you were with Jeno as he was teaching you how to play a few chords on his guitar, something you had always wanted to do in your active lifetime. The two of you had been going at it for about an hour now and things were going pretty smoothly aside from Jeno having to help press the strings down when your own fingers weren’t enough.

You were able to learn a few simple chords separately but right before you were able to string them all together, the guitar suddenly fell through your hold into Jeno’s hands that were helping you apply pressure to the strings. He let out a noise of surprise as he too could no longer see your form.

He blinked rapidly, thinking it was his own eyes playing tricks on him until you saw him relax as both of you witnessed your own body flicker back into existence. This time, there was definitely no denying what just happened.

Later that night you went to Haechan and told him both accounts of what was going on and you broke down in tears, telling him how you didn’t want to leave them just yet. He rubbed your back as you clung on to his shirt, your tears would’ve been soaking it if you weren’t a ghost.

As much as you wanted to stay in his embrace, he told you that he had to study for an upcoming final so you instead settled for lying on his bed and staring up at the ceiling as you let your mind wander through all the what-ifs going through your head.

You’re not sure how much time passed before Haechan finally climbed into his bed, throwing an arm over your waist. No sooner than before he lifted his head to speak to you, his arm dropped through your body and fell onto his bed. The shock was evident on his face as he watched you fade out from his view.

Haechan frantically reached out, trying to grasp onto something, anything to tell him that you were still there as he called out your name. You did the same to him, but your cries fell on deaf ears until one of your hands managed to grab ahold of his and he found your eyes, the fear in his mirroring your own.

You laid with Haechan as he slept that night, scared that you’d cease to exist if he weren’t by your side to validate your presence every so often.

May 2, 2020

One night, as all of you were in the living room watching a show on Netflix, as per Renjun’s recommendation, you mentioned these repeated occurrences to them causing a thick silence to fall over everyone as they processed what this possibly meant for you.

Again, you sought out Haechan’s comfort that night and stayed by his side as he slept because being with him made you feel the slightest bit more real, even when his arm dropped from your waist again.

Now that finals week was over, the boys were home more often, though Jaemin still continued to work and volunteer at the hospital with Renjun, leaving you with Jeno and Haechan. Not much changed as you still continued to stick to Haechan like glue.

May 14, 2020

About two weeks after you had first brought up the topic of your frequency disappearances, you were lying next to Haechan in his bed as you both watched videos on his phone. He abruptly turned it off and turned to face you. “Have you ever been in a relationship before?”

You shook your head, “no, I was always too bust for one.”

“Did you want to be in one? Do you want to be in one?” You froze as you looked at him, not sure if he meant what you’re thinking he means. “On a scale from one to ten, how mad would you be right now if I told you I might have feelings for you?”

You thought for a moment before responding. “Depends on if you’re being serious or not.”

“I’m dead serious. Okay, maybe not dead, but you know what I mean.” He said, poking fun at his word choice.

“Do you really like me?” You asked, unsure if you were thinking clearly.

“Yes,” he paused, “but only if you like me back.”

“Is this just a spur of the moment thing or have you actually had feelings for me before this?” You could feel your cheeks heating up and you were suddenly grateful that he couldn’t see you as if you were a normal human.

“For a while now.” He stated, shrugging his shoulders as if it were nothing.

Your eyes grew wide in shock. “I...Haechan, as much as I’m flattered, we both know it’s not going to work out,” your voice getting caught in your throat, “you’re human, you’re still alive. There’s someone out there for you--”

“Okay and?”

“There’s someone who you can hold, someone you can kiss and make love to, someone you can have a family with--”

“And what if that someone is you?” He interrupted again. “What if you’re the someone I want to hold, to kiss, to spend time with?”

“Haechan...I don’t know…” Your voice coming out as more of a whisper.

His eyes searched yours as he spoke. “Just let me kiss you...please.”

You let out a small “okay” as your eyes fluttered shut and you felt his lips meet yours. He showed you the warmth you didn’t know you could even feel as you allowed yourself to melt into his kiss. Had it not been for your body disintegrating again and causing Haechan to fall forward, you probably would’ve stayed kissing him until he was begging for air.

“I guess that’s the universe telling me to give you a break for a bit.” He chuckled while he grabbed his phone and unpaused the video he was playing earlier as he waited for you to appear again. You didn’t have to look at him to know there was a smile plastered on his face as you wrapped your arms around him and nuzzled your face into his chest the very second you could.

If you were considered to be clingy with Haechan, now you were practically inseparable.

May 17, 2020

It was a rare occurrence for all four of them to be home together during the day so Jaemin took it as an opportunity to gather everyone for lunch. He didn’t even knock as he opened the door to Haechan’s room, sticking his head in to say “lunch is ready. I made kimchi stew. Oh, hey y/n, haven’t seen you in a while.”

You whined in embarrassment due to the fact that you were currently seated in Haechan’s lap as he practically held you like a baby, cooing at you and littering kisses across your face.

Once Jaemin was gone, Haechan pressed a kiss to your forehead. “You’re cute when you’re embarrassed. You know that?” He said, ruffling your hair out of affection.

May 19, 2020

You watch with great interest as Haechan lugs a box into his bedroom and cuts it open, revealing an electronic keyboard. He had told you previously that he wanted to get back into playing piano, having played it when he was younger. You didn’t think he was actually serious enough about it to buy a whole keyboard which, from the looks of it, seemed pretty expensive.

You sat in his gaming chair as you watched him assemble the stand, handing him scissors when he asked and holding things in place when his own two hands weren’t enough. You didn’t trust yourself to do much else in case you randomly disappeared again. Your lips curved upwards as he plugged the keyboard into the socket on the wall and played a few chords, his own smile matching yours.

May 20, 2020

Sighing, you floating your way into Haechan’s room as you notice his sleeping figure hunched over his desk, a little string of drool landing on the lined paper he was writing on. Given that school was already over, you figured it was song lyrics that he was writing.

Haechan, along with getting back into playing piano, had also picked up song composition and lyric writing as well though he refused to show you any of the lyrics he wrote and claimed he’d be embarrassed if you saw them to which you rolled your eyes at. Haechan? Embarrassed? Now that was a rarity given that he was one of the most confident people you’ve ever met, not even bothering to cover himself up the few times you accidentally came in while he was changing his clothes.

But as confident as he was, he had yet to channel that into his lyric writing as he kept falling asleep after hours of trying to get them perfect. You fan out the candle he had been using and run your finger across his lip, gathering his drool, in order to prevent his from further wetting his paper.

You tried to slowly pull the paper out from under his head, doing your best to not wake him up, though your efforts were in vain as his eyes shot open the second you tugged a little too hard. It took Haechan only a second or two to figure out what you were doing before he snatched the paper from you while whining “I told you not to read them” as he puts it in a folder filled with other papers which you assume are also lyrics.

“I was only moving it so you wouldn’t drool on it like a baby.” You scoffed at him.

Haechan imitated your scoff back at you, “don’t lie,” he quipped, “I know you were going to read it as soon as you got your hands on it.”

“You know, you better quit it or else you’re sleeping alone tonight.” You threatened, knowing that your boyfriend of sorts has gotten used to your presence in his bed while he slept.

“No!” He exclaimed, his eyes growing wide in panic before he dove for his bed and gave you puppy eyes, begging you not to leave him.

May 25, 2020

At this point, your disappearances had become more frequent and lasted for longer durations, leaving the boys constantly guessing as to where you were. You could barely muster up the force to show yourself in your human form and physically move objects so you were glad when you realized they could all see you in your regular blue-tinted ghost state.

You considered yourself lucky when they told you they could still feel the gusts of wind you created while moving around, even when you became invisible. It may look stupid to you when you were rapidly moving your arms back in forth to let them know where you are, but it’s not like you cared when you knew they couldn’t see you anyways.

On this day, you were watching a show on TV with Renjun, though he could only vaguely sense your presence. When you heard the sink in the kitchen turn on, you left your seat and floated through the wall to see if it was Jaemin cooking again. Much to your surprise, it was Haechan who was actually doing the dishes for once.

You moved around behind him, alerting him of your presence. “Hey babe, came to do the dishes with me?” You rolled your eyes and rapidly fanned his neck, something you knew he hated because he was ticklish in that area. “Okay, okay, I get it.” He giggled while scrunching his neck.

“Is y/n with you in the kitchen?” Renjun called out from the living room. Haechan shouted back a short ‘yes’ to which you heard Renjun respond back with a slight laugh in his voice, “I thought she was still with me so I was talking about the show but I guess I was just talking to myself this whole time.”

May 29, 2020

No matter how much energy you concentrated, you just couldn’t seem to show yourself in your human form at all. You weren’t completely invisible to the boys yet, just fading in and out of your normal ghost forme every so often, though if you really tried hard  enough, you could force yourself to become visible again, even if it were only for a few seconds. You saved your energy for more important moments like when Haechan shot up from his place next to you in bed, sweating from the nightmare he was having.

For the past half hour or so, you watched him as he writhed in his sleep and you felt your heart wrench knowing there was nothing you could do to rouse him from his sleep, unable to do your normal actions of slamming windows or dropping books so you felt a sense of relief when he jolted awake and looked over to where he knew you’d be, his eyes searching for the outline of your body to give him some comfort.

You forced yourself to show up, glowing faintly in the darkened room as Haechan was able to catch your silhouette before it disappeared again. His eyes bore straight into yours, even if you knew that to him, he was simply staring at a wall so you didn’t move, not wanting to leave his gaze as he spoke to you.

“Y/n, I hope you know that every moment I spend with you is precious to you. Whether I can see you or not, I know when you’re with me.” He confessed, his eyes starting to tear up. “I can only hope that I am making your last moments precious for you as well.”

You hoped so desperately to have enough strength to show yourself again to let him know that you heard him and felt the same way, but you were unable to. Your own wet eyes mirrored his as you reached out a hand to cup his face, a tear slipping out of your eyes as you watch your hand merely fall through his cheek.

June 2, 2020

You’ve come to terms with the fact that your time on earth is running out when you can only seem to manage to materialize once or twice a day, lasting for only about a second each time. You were upset that you didn’t get to say a true goodbye to the other three boys, wanting to thank them for taking such good care of you. Maybe you just so hoped that this regret would keep you with them longer, if only for a few more days.

June 4, 2020

When Haechan returns to his room after eating breakfast with the rest of the guys, you watch as he sits down in front of his keyboard before turning around to face his bed, where he’s guessing you were as he spoke. “Y/n, I wrote this song for you. I don’t know how much longer I have left with you so I rushed the ending of it, but I wanted to show you now before it’s too late.”

With that, he turned back around and began playing a melody you had heard from him before though it was different this time around now that he was singing the lyrics he wrote for you.

Like Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Moments with you are always special. I’m thankful for all the days we spend together, At times like this I get shy, but it means I love you. When I see you brightly smiling and dazzling, My wish of us being together forever seems like it’ll come true. I know the future isn’t clear and the past might be sad, But don’t worry anymore. Just keep adding days like this. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, I only have plans filled with you, I think it’s perfect. In my heart, my dreams were possible through you, I want to fulfill them all with you. I’m not alone, I’m with you, When I needed someone, you came to me. Even in the ordinary, I celebrate your preciousness, Please always stay by my side.

I want to give you gift-like days, you and me, me and you baby. Without leaving behind a single day, it’s only us. Like candlelight that never goes out, My wish of us being together forever seems like it’ll come true.

June 5, 2020

If you’re being completely honest with yourself, you’ve practically given up trying to make your whereabouts known to the boys, though they continued to speak to you as they estimated your location and if you were even present in the same room or not.

You wanted to tell Haechan how much you loved the song he wrote, but you were unable to. You wanted to do something for his birthday but you barely had enough strength to walk yourself from the balcony back into his room.

For the first time within the last four years of your existence, you felt tired. You had forgotten this feeling, what it was like to be tired and suddenly you remembered when all you wanted to do was lie down and sleep.

It was late already, the digital clock on Haechan’s desk reading 11:48pm as he stepped out from the bathroom, freshly showered. You eyed him, wanting to get up and kiss him all over, to give him the same love he gave to you, and you felt so helpless when you knew you wouldn’t be able to.

He lay down in his bed with his hair still slightly wet. “Can you believe it’s already been a whole year since we first moved in?” He turned his head, guessing at where your face was but returning his gaze to the ceiling to not make you feel bad before continuing on. “I never would’ve believed in ghosts if I hadn’t met you but now I’m always gonna think all ghosts are as sweet as you and that’s not good,” he said as he let out a laugh at the end, “I’m going to get myself killed if I try talking to a ghost that isn’t as kind and loving as you.”

Haechan went silent for a bit before continuing on. “But you would never let that happen right? You’ll be my angel watching down on me from above,” he paused as a sly smile appeared on his face, “or you’ll be my little demon waiting for me in hell.” He snicked to himself at his joke. “Ah, you’re probably trying to hit me right now. Don’t worry, I’ll do it myself.” And with that, he slapped his own cheek before telling you “I really love you and I hope you know that.”

June 6, 2020

As soon as the clock’s display changed to 12:00am, Haechan’s door burst open, revealing the other three boys with party hats atop their heads as they carried in a small cake with two candles on it, showing his new age of twenty. They began singing happy birthday and you even sang along with them, clapping your hands to the beat, even if they couldn’t hear you.

“Make a wish!” Renjun exclaimed once the song was over.

Haechan clasped his hands together as he closed his eyes for a few seconds. “Y/n, I know you’re still here. Before you go, please do this one last time for me.” He reopened his eyes and looked over at where he assumed you were and gestured towards the cake. You felt your heart swell with love as you took a final glance at him before using all your remaining energy to blow out the candle.

When the flame of the candle went out, so did your view of the world. Everything faded to black as your fire was extinguished, letting you rest in peace as Haechan’s candlelight.

A/N - as always, credit goes to @soleilhyuck​ for coming up with the idea for this fic. thank you for patiently waiting and giving lots of love to this series and please look forward to frat boy!yuta next month as well <3